Gakutalia: The First Term
by The Xs and the Os
Summary: "Mr Jones, please stay late after class." Welcome to World Academy, a prestigious school with a wide variety of... "interesting"... students. In this Academy, students meet their full potential in assessments such as English Coursework, but also have the time to organise their own social party events. Also, the Academy provides entertainment... like that Talent Show... and drama.
1. Prologue

**A/N:** _Hey, everyone! I'd like to introduce you to Gakutalia - it's based off the Japanese word 'Gakko', meaning 'school'; I considered 'Gakkotalia', but considering Hidekaz Himaruya had previously started a game called 'Gakuen Hetalia', meaning 'Hetalia School', I decided to use similar lettering. Gakutalia, therefore, is literally 'Schooltalia'._

 _I've decided to use the nations' human names - be it official or fan given. I'm sure many people will know the names of the eight main nations, but just in case, I'll list them all at the end! For any other characters, I'll make sure to list their names. Teachers are made up characters, as are parents. For the very reason that Gakutalia sometimes feels very distant to the actual Hetalia universe, I would like to say **I do not own Hetalia, nor the characters who belong to the series. The idea of anthropomorphised countries and the characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya (check out his blog if you haven't already; it's amazing. There's a way of getting to an English version through the website); however! Gakutalia is not based off of 'Gakuen Hetalia'. The plot is my original idea, and doesn't link the game, other than sharing the 'school' theme. **Thank you very much for your time._

 _For anyone who reads my other FanFiction 'Scaretalia', I'm still posting that one as well, so don't fear! I just had this as an idea and needed to get it out there! I hope you all enjoy Gakutalia!_

* * *

 **A.J.**

 _In my head, I sometimes imagine so much more is out there. When I wake up and look in the mirror, I see a face that will, one day, be loved and adored by everyone. I can see that charming smile – you'll have a great lady once you're out in the world. And no, despite what Arthur says and what Matt implies, you'll even get a great degree. Check that! You could be the president when you're older! Oh, and by the way, that comment about the charming smile? I even say that to myself as a much needed pep talk to start the day._

 _There's this thing… It's not easy being as popular and smart as me. The girls flock to me! I'm the Hero – I run into the scene and show what's meant to be done. My well rounded personality means I also happen to be a great role model. When kids see me on the TV, they'll think: "That's the guy I want to be." Even the girls will think that…_

"Mr Jones, please stay late after class," Miss Ronan sighed, and several snickers flowed through the room.

"Wait, why?" Alfred sat up in his chair in horror.

"Is sitting right in front of me blatantly not listening, let alone answering my questions, good enough?" she turned to him with a raised eyebrow. "Add answering back to that list."

"Oh, come on," he muttered under his breath and then gazed out of the window.

In his opinion, Math (yeah, _Math_ , not _Maths_ , Arthur) was a waste of time. Jumbling a bunch of numbers together was something he really didn't like doing – let alone forcing them into equations. Last year, he was sent to the headmaster's office for saying: "I don't want to force numbers together; that's like forced breeding, Sir." But that was in the good old days when his Math teacher was Mr Tyler, who was aggravated by pretty much anything anyone did. Now he had Miss Ronan, who was way more controlled and somehow managed to deflect any comments he made.

He'd heard the rumours about her. She was the Math teacher that made _Gilbert Beilschmidt_ do Math. Apparently, she kept him in so much during lunch (rather than after school) and got him to recite as many times tables as possible until he would rather do the other stuff. She had also, apparently, been able to completely send all his jokes and comments out the window. If Gilbert Beilschmidt, the King of his year, the most awesome kid in school before he left, was forced to do Math from this woman, then he, Alfred Jones, stood no chance.

Speaking of "Beilschmidt"… He turned slightly in his seat and looked towards the King of Awesome's younger brother, Ludwig Beilschmidt. He sat diligently working, writing down everything Miss Ronan was saying.

 _I suppose awesome isn't a family trait,_ he pondered, and then a tapping on his desk brought him back to the real world.

"Alfred, do you _really_ want me to keep you in this lunchtime?" she threatened, her pen resting on his desk.

"No, Ma'am," he frowned, and picked up his pen.

"Alright," she walked to the board and slammed her hand against it next to a string of numbers and letters most humans called an equation. "Can you tell me the answer to this?"

Alfred looked at all the numbers swimming across the board. "Five."

"Alfred, we're doing quadratic equations," she prompted. "Five isn't right."

"Four?"

She sighed. " _Quadratic equations_ , Alfred. And this question's already been half worked out by the class. Do you remember quadratic equations?"

"Um…" he sunk lower in his seat. "Yeah?"

"OK, well, I'll give you a clue," she said. "There are two results."

"Four and five?" he guessed.

She sighed, lowered her head, and then glanced around the classroom. "Can anyone _else_ quickly work out the answer for Alfred, here?"

He brooded as she gazed across the classroom, and then pointed towards the back.

"Yes, Kiku?"

"The answers are two and minus zero point five."

Alfred turned in his chair and looked at him in disbelief. He'd heard Asians were good at Math, but that was ridiculous. He was fairly sure that Kiku sacrificed his social life in his pursuit of Math. He turned moodily back to the front, ignoring the quiet snickers and sneering glances aimed towards him. He hated being embarrassed and humiliated...

He waited for the torture to end. The bell rang, and he started packing his bag, shoving his cursed Math books inside with everything else. He stood alongside the flow of students heading towards the door, and started shifting slowly out of the classroom.

"Alfred, a word, remember?" Miss Ronan said from behind him.

 _Yes, hence I'm leaving,_ he thought, but turned with an anxious smile and approached her desk, where she sat.

"Yes, Ma'am?" he asked.

She placed an elbow on the table and glanced at him. "I sometimes really wonder if you should have a Maths tutor to help you. I don't say that to offend you, but I'm worried about how you're progressing in this subject. Quadratic equations are something you do in Years Ten and Eleven. That's freshman and sophomore; you're a senior now."

"I've never been good at Math, Miss Ronan," he admitted. "And I never really understood them when we first learned about them…"

"You never asked Mr Tyler to go over them in person?" she gave him a pointed a look.

In truth, Alfred had never aspired to _try_ and understand quadratic equations. Mr Tyler had insisted he go to clinic, get a tutor, see him after class, lunch, school, anything, but Alfred insisted he knew his quadratics. He didn't. He'd found that out the difficult way during the exams.

His only way to reply was to offer her a baffled expression and shrug his shoulders.

"I think I'll start tutoring you," she decided. "You already go to a well-established school and, as your teacher, it's my job to make sure you get the results at the end of the day. That means I don't want you having to put additional money towards outside education when you're already here."

"Miss, I honestly don't have time for Math," Alfred shrugged arrogantly.

"Do you know who you remind me of?" she said. "Gilbert Beilschmidt. I'm sure you were here when he was still in school?"

Alfred nodded. A young, excitable Year Ten Alfred had seen Year Thirteen Gilbert as an amazing role model. He had admired him so much, and then he'd been gone when he reached Year Eleven that next year. However, the memory of the King of Awesome had imprinted on Alfred's mind, and the Awesome was left in the school in a loudly written "Gilbert = King of Awesome" that the older Beilschmidt son had apparently written in Year Eleven on the bottom corner of the Headmaster's door. Only the students knew about that, though…

"That boy refused to learn Maths," she continued. "But I pressed and pressed until even _he_ got an A as his final grade. It was a low A, but it was an _A_ , Alfred, and that's what counts. It's achievable. I know you can do it if you put the effort in, but if I go through the basics with you and reteach you on all the parts you're shaky on, the foundations will help you with the higher things."

"Can't I just do a foundation paper?" he asked, bored.

"I don't want you having to do that," she said, pointedly. "I want you to at least put in your best efforts. If you're still struggling by the end of the Easter term, we'll see what we can do about a foundation paper. In the meantime, you and I'll be doing a lot of Maths work after school. We'll work out the days later. Have a good break."

Sourly, Alfred nodded and walked out of the classroom. The corridor was empty. No one had chosen to wait for him. Sullenly, he walked down the stairs and into the flow of students heading to Break. He himself had a different purpose.

There was a place he had been meeting with his friends since Year Eleven. He remembered the first day he'd gone to the hideout with the other four.

It had been the summer of Year Ten, the last day of school for the Year Thirteen students. A younger Alfred had hurried towards the bus stop in front of the school where the older students were gathered. He'd been nervous at the time, but when he saw the silvery white hair of his role model, turned pale gold from the sun's tiring rays, he'd been filled with excitement and wonder.

"Gilbert Beilschmidt!" he'd called as he'd ran down to the slightly sloped hill that led to the bus stop outside the school.

The older boy had turned, mildly curious at the young voice calling his name, and although his conversation had been interrupted, he'd been pretty cool about it.

He had said: "Hey, there, kid. What's up?"

"I want to know the place where you used to meet up," young Alfred had begged. "I want to be just as awesome as you by the time _I'm_ in Year Thirteen."

A couple of kids had glanced at him at the time, and Alfred thought they'd been questioning, but then Gilbert had smiled at him, amused by this statement.

"Rule Number One," he'd held up a finger. "You can't be as awesome as the King of Awesome. Ever. But you can be still be a little awesome… Rule Number Two? Follow the base. The awesome will guide you."

After that, the bus had arrived and Gilbert had had to leave. Alfred had watched in amazement as his childhood hero was swept out of his life just like that. He hadn't seen or heard from Gilbert since, but everything the older boy (probably a young man, now) had did and said was etched into Alfred's core.

It had taken him a week, three days, fourteen hours and fifty-two minutes to work out how Rule Number Two worked. The base meant the bottom, but of what he had had no idea. It finally occurred to him, after weeks searching the music room, much to Roderich Edelstein's dismay and irritation. He'd been looking for the bass. However, then he realised it was the bottom of something. It had been Arthur's idea to check somewhere secluded, which had led them to the forest nearby the school. No one went there, and that was when Alfred had seen the crosses scratched into the trunks. He'd followed them in a depressing circle. It was Yao's idea to check the base of the trunk, which had given them straight directions to which tree they needed to go to.

The King of Awesome's base had been very worth it indeed. They'd all been surprised to find an old tree-house hidden amongst the trees. Climbing up, Alfred had found the place he'd wanted to find. It was well built, and in the door was written: "Awesome wuz here". Entering, he'd found the coolest things ever. It was just riddled with posters of things Gilbert and his friends had liked. There were beanie bags, a music player and even an old football abandoned in the corner. The strangest thing had been the bed in the corner, but Gilbert was long gone before Alfred could've asked him anything about that. It was the one place nobody ever went – nobody had ever found Gilbert's base, and now it seemed it had been passed on from one King to the next.

Alfred was well aware of Rule Number One, but his dream had only grown as he'd gotten older, to the point where he wanted to exceed Gilbert.

The base was there, and he climbed up into the main room to see the other four lounging around.

"I can't believe you guys didn't wait for me," he complained, and threw himself down on the bed, which was really just two mattresses on top of one another with a blanket.

"We were hardly going to hang around whilst you were scolded for not paying attention," Arthur rolled his eyes.

"You should try listening," Francis added. "You might get into less trouble."

"If my parents got an e-mail or comment or anything about me doing something like you, I'm fairly sure they'd prohibit me leaving the house until my grades went up," Yao glanced at him.

"I convince my teachers they're wrong," Ivan smiled, staring into space, and ending his sentence a little ominously.

 _Has he always been this strange?_ Alfred wondered, but then laughed despite himself.

They might have been assholes, they might have even been a little weird, but the four others sitting in the new King's house were his friends. And Alfred didn't mean the new King of Awesome.

He was the King of Heroes.

* * *

 **A/N:** _Here it is! The first chapter of Gakutalia! Hope you enjoyed it, and I can certainly guarantee there'll be more of that where it came from! Thank you very much, and please review if you have anything to say, because I love getting reviews/opinions on the things I write!_

 ** _Alfred = America; Arthur = England; Francis = France; Yao = China; Ivan = Russia; Roderich = Austria; Gilbert = Prussia; Matthew (called "Matt" in this chapter) = Canada; Ludwig = Germany; Kiku = Japan_**


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N:** _Here is the next chapter of Gakutalia: The First Term. I really hope you like it - I'll put any names at the end (since this FanFic uses the nation's human names) but if there are any that you're unclear with, ask me about them!_

* * *

 **L.B.**

"Mr Jones, please stay late after class."

Ludwig Beilschmidt had raised his head from the disturbance in his lesson. Naturally, and as expected, it was Alfred Jones, that one guy who believed he owned the place, but was usually laughed _at_ rather than with.

"Wait, why?" the idiot had sat up in his chair in horror.

 _Because you weren't listening,_ Ludwig thought with a distant shake of his head and went back to copying things from the board.

He was aware of someone else who wasn't listening. Glancing across the room, he saw Feliciano doodling in his Maths book with his usual airy behaviour. His friend would likely need a copy of his notes after class, as per usual. He always wondered whether he was being more or less helpful to Fel by giving him the answers when he needed them. However, there had been no critical complaints, so he could only assume his friend was able to learn from reading and copying down things.

"The answers are two and zero point five."

Ludwig glanced at his other friend, Kiku. There was a friend who didn't need being given the answers, and sometimes even gave him the answers if he was in desperate need. Kiku was the opposite of Fel; he was diligent and hardworking, and that was shown in his general attitude towards school and learning. If there was ever anyone Ludwig could turn to academically, it was Kiku. The three of them were so spaced out across the classroom that communication was frustrating.

Ludwig wrote a quick note. _Alfred: 0 Kiku: 1_ – he passed that along and watched as Kiku received the subtle note.

Note passing was the communication device of old soldiers in the military, leaders of the world in the old days, but also students of the modern day. It was efficient, quiet, and could be kept easily secret from a teacher's watching eye. Phones were just too obvious. You were always getting caught if you were sending quick texts throughout your lesson.

He received a note back and opened it. _He should really pay attention. This year really counts._

Ludwig glanced towards Fel and then wrote: _Yes – but Fel's in the same boat._

He passed the note on, and then continued writing in his book, until he got another little note from Kiku that read: _Fel has me to help him if he gets stuck. Yao wouldn't do that for Alfred._

He shrugged to himself and then class ended. At least Fel's complacency could be explained. However, he needed to realise sooner or later that Kiku wouldn't be aiding him during the exams. He packed his bags and watched the stream of students head towards the door.

"What are we doing for Break?" Kiku asked, approaching, with his bag slung over his shoulder.

"I'm kinda hungry," Fel complained as he slid past the desks to get to them. "Can we go get something to eat from the common room?"

"Fine by me," Ludwig replied. "I don't have anywhere I need to be."

The three of them headed downstairs from the Maths room into the main school. Each Year group had a common room allocated to them. Year Seven had their own, Years Eight and Nine shared one, as did Years Ten and Eleven, and then Years Twelve and Thirteen also shared a common room. However, the top two Years had their own kitchen. It didn't have an oven, but it had a microwave, which meant you could bring things in. It also had a toaster, which happened to be very popular. Biscuits and fruit were generally supplied to each common room.

Upon arriving, Ludwig instantly smelt the wonderful aroma of waffles. Drawn to the succulent scent, he wandered in the direction and entered the Year Thirteen kitchen. There he found Emma toasting some packet waffles.

He wandered closer. "Waffles? You brought waffles to school?"

She turned to him and offered one of her sly smiles. "I can't help but find all the biscuits bland! I made these the other day, so before you say they're supermarket bought, they're actually not!"

"That's insane," Fel drooled from her other side. "But I kinda like the smell of them."

"You can have one," she shrugged. "I brought loads with me. Share one between the three of you."

"Thank you," Kiku replied.

"I brought some chocolate sauce to go with them!" she chuckled. "I can't stand a mediocre waffle! It has to be mine to be good!"

With calm contentment, Ludwig hung around the kitchen with the other three, and shared a waffle with Kiku and Fel. After that, they left for their next class.

Unfortunately for Ludwig, it was Art. He always found he was hopeless at every type of Art, be it abstract or detailed. On the other hand, Fel was amazing, and Kiku was very good at cartoons.

When they arrived, they dumped their bags into one corner of the room. It was compulsory to leave your bag to one side of the room, to prevent anyone from falling over. He carried his pencil case and seated himself where he usually sat; at the back in between Kiku and Fel. He wasn't an Art enthusiast, so he hated when they had large projects that needed doing when he wanted to focus on other subjects.

Their teacher was usually five to ten minutes late, so Ludwig had some time to talk to Kiku and Fel before the lesson began.

"I wonder what we'll be doing today?" he asked.

"I'm fairly sure last week our teacher said something along the lines of looking closely at what we're drawing," Kiku shrugged.

Fel sat on the table and clunked his feet on his chair. "That could mean still life or copying a photograph."

"I hate still life," Ludwig sighed. "I'm really not into all this art stuff."

"I've been doing Art for as long as I can remember," Fel breathed. "My grandpa taught me everything I know, and all I've done is develop from what he began…"

"I like drawing, but sometimes I'm really not in the mood to do so," Kiku added. "I think it's one of those days where I'm not in such a mood."

The door swung open and Alfred swaggered in, dropping his bag in the corner of the room. Ludwig watched in contempt as the American's bag landed on his, and wondered if he should interrupt his arrogance and ask him to move it. Deciding to avoid unnecessary conflict, Ludwig contented himself to hearing about how Kiku was currently working on several art strips of his own characters.

The door flew open some five minutes later and their teacher hurried in, hair a mess from running and face red. Mrs Denver was an eccentric. Ludwig thought she was downright weird and could be deprecating when it came to those who sucked at Art. She was scatter-brained, which conflicted with his pragmatic personality. He watched her dump her books on her desk and whip up several pens.

"OK, class, I'll be putting you into pairs today," she said excitedly. "I actually ran here because today, we'll be drawing each other in pairs. We're going to be looking into the human frame this term. That means we're going to keep looking at facial structure and body position in order to come up with something at the end. Your new books haven't arrived yet, but we should have them in for next week."

"Are we going to have a model come in?" Alfred asked obnoxiously, in Ludwig's opinion.

Mrs Denver, who liked Alfred for his enthusiasm if not his talent, laughed at that comment. "You'll be disappointed to know that we won't be doing any of that. However, I do have _other_ things in mind…"

She flicked through her register and then nodded in appreciation.

"OK, Yao you can work with Kiku," she said.

"Great – put the Asians together," Yao muttered quietly from the other side of the room.

"Oh, no," Kiku whispered to Ludwig and Fel. "Yao's terrible at Art. Be prepared to see some very distorted images of me."

Ludwig raised a hand to his mouth and nose to muffle any laughter. He hoped he would work with Fel, but he knew that was probably unlikely out of everyone in the room.

"Alfred and Ivan," Mrs Denver continued. "Francis and Arthur. Ludwig and Feliciano."

The list continued, but Ludwig was just glad to have himself out of the way and stopped listening after that. He was also glad to be with a good artist who would probably draw him correctly. It would be Fel who would disappointed with the quality of his portrait.

"Today, I want you to draw each other's faces," Mrs Denver said. "I want you to learn about facial proportion as well as how the eyes and nose and lips are shaped. It's also an opportunity to bond, because you'll be looking very closely at one another. Now, go sit in your pairs."

It was Yao who came over to Kiku due to a lack of desk space where he had previously sat. He dropped in the seat beside Ludwig, whilst Fel moved across so they could look at one another.

"Hey," Yao said awkwardly. "Just to let you know, I'm not the best at Art."

"I'm more of a manga drawer," Kiku shrugged.

Ludwig recalled his earlier comment about Yao's art and suppressed more laughter. He looked at Fel to see his partner staring at him. He felt a little uncomfortable with the way Fel was scrutinising him, but he knew it was for the purpose of the lesson.

"Fel, if you keep squinting your eyes when trying to examine me, I'm going to end up drawing you wrong," Ludwig frowned. "Is your eyesight bad?"

"No, I'm just concentrating," Fel then tried to not squint, but ended up hollowly staring at him, and his eyebrows furrowed instead. However, Ludwig decided it would be more amusing if he was pulling that face when he immortalised his portrait.

He put pen to paper and kept glancing up at Fel. Every now and then, he glanced at Yao's work as well, but tried to be subtle about it so he wouldn't get suspicious about them.

It wasn't that Yao was disliked amongst them. There was, however, slight tension between their group and his. History between him and Kiku had also not been extremely positive. Apparently, according to Kiku, he had caused great offence to Yao at the end of Year Four, and the two hadn't spoken quite the same ever since. It was Francis and Arthur that Ludwig wasn't fond of. Whilst Alfred was annoying, it was a distant annoying. He, Francis and Arthur had once been good friends in Year One. However, a huge argument between the three of them somehow led to him being blamed for everything. A year later, he may have brought it up again, and things had been irreparable by then.

He started with Fel's eyes, that haunted stare, and then those raised eyebrows. He could see the left eye was a little lower down, however, he couldn't be bothered to rub out the whole eye, so kept going, and just made sure that both eyebrows were on the same level. He wasn't entirely sure how to draw eyebrows, so they ended up being as thick as Arthur's. When he tried to thin them down, they only smudged across the page. Deciding he wasn't doing the drawing any justice, he stopped and let the right eyebrow be considerably thicker.

Fel's nose was easy. Or not. Ludwig frowned as his drawing began to take an even more lopsided appearance. Grimacing, he finished off the nose as quickly as he could. It was looking less and less like Fel. The fact that he didn't know how to effectively implement depth into his drawings didn't help either. Fel's face began to take a flat quality, but when he tried to add shading beneath his nose to make it stand out, it looked like Fel had a moustache.

"Time's up," Mrs Denver said. "I want you to show your partner your drawings."

Embarrassed, Ludwig pushed his incomplete Fel drawing towards his friend. They traded pictures. When he looked at the drawing of him, he was rather impressed and a little guilty that he couldn't draw that well. He could see the similarities between himself and the drawing, and whilst it was incomplete, he was sure Fel would've added more to it once it was finished.

"What the Hell, dude?" Alfred sputtered from across the classroom. "Why did you _only_ draw my glasses?"

"I didn't know how to start," Ivan shrugged, looking defensive.

"May I see?" Mrs Denver asked and Alfred held up the picture for the whole class to see – it was glasses, and whilst a lot of thought had gone into them, they were still just glasses. "I quite like this. Ivan's focused on a particular aspect of you that stands out to him, and he's really put a lot of thought into it. Very interesting, very abstract."

"Very interesting, very abstract" was Mrs Denver's catchphrase that really bugged Ludwig. She decided that, for the rest of the lesson, they'd all draw a bowl of fruit. Ludwig hated still life. Ludwig hated Art.

* * *

 **A/N:** _Ludwig isn't the only one to dislike that subject. I chose it out of choice and it was one of the worst mistakes I ever made... It didn't help that my teacher hated the very ground I stood upon, so it was definitely a subject I was glad to rid myself of._

 _Some names for you:_

 _Ludwig Beilschmidt: **Germany**  
Kiku Honda: **Japan  
** Feliciano Vargas - nicknamed "Fel": **Italy**  
Alfred Jones: **America  
** Yao Wang: **China**  
Ivan Braginsky: **Russia**  
Arthur Kirkland: **England  
** Francis Bonnefoy: **France  
** Emma Peeters: **Belgium** *the reason I chose this name was because Hidekaz Himaruya listed 'Emma' as one of the names he would pick for her first name. She doesn't have an official name. As for her surname, although Hima didn't mention a potential one, I browsed the internet and found 'Peeters' to be the most common surname in Belgium. Therefore, I used it.*_

 _May the next chapter come to rise at a later date. Thank you very much for reading this FanFiction so far, and remember: I like hearing what people have to say about my stories, so please do review if you have something to say! Until next time!_


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N:** _Hey everyone - I figured that, as it was my birthday, I would express a certain kindness by posting an additional chapter of Gakutalia: The First Term today. This is the next installation of the nation's high school lives. Have fun reading and I hope you enjoy it!_

* * *

 **I.B.**

The exercise seemed simple enough. Draw the person in front of you in sufficient enough detail to at least claim it was them. Ivan was no Michelangelo, but he could draw a few basic things. He hoped Alfred wouldn't get offended from anything he drew.

He studied Alfred for a bit, trying to get an image of him in his head. The other boy was drawing on his sheet of paper. Alfred suddenly rose his head and met Ivan's gaze.

"What?" he asked.

"I'm just…" Ivan wasn't sure what to say. _Staring at you to imprint your image in my brain? Photocopying your very atoms to this paper? Studying you to ensure my drawing of you isn't a pore out of place?_ "…just thinking how to start."

"Right," Alfred glanced at his paper once more. Ivan found it worrying how little he was referencing from the real deal.

He tapped the pencil to the paper and glanced up again. Alfred was in a different position, his head tilted to other side. Nodding slowly to himself, Ivan looked back down at his paper, but then frowned, genuinely unsure as to how to begin. He glanced up and saw Alfred now had his head bent over the paper, his face completely hidden from view. He tried lowering his head to see at least one of Alfred's features.

Alfred looked at him again. "Dude, _what_ are you doing?"

Ivan just shrugged. "Trying to think of the starting point."

"How about my face?" Alfred replied moodily and then continued drawing.

Ivan pursed his lips and put his pencil to the paper. Instead of drawing Alfred, he found himself doodling stars and lines and squiggles. He looked up to Alfred sneering at his paper.

"What?" he asked coolly.

"That's not me," Alfred hissed in a low whisper, and then glanced as Mrs Denver approached casually.

"What's this?" she asked Ivan.

"I'm getting my creative juices flowing," Ivan lied.

She peered at his page and then inhaled deeply. "I see what you mean. I didn't realise you were a contemplative artist, Ivan. Very interesting, very abstract. I'll give you another sheet for when you're ready to move on to your portrait drawing."

He nodded as she slid another piece of paper beside him. Once she was gone, he shot a smug look in Alfred's direction before continuing to doodle on his page. He wondered if he could get away with this for the whole drawing session, but then decided to apply some effort.

He swapped his pieces of paper round, then looked firmly at Alfred, who now had a hand on his forehead, obscuring most of his face, apart from his glasses.

That was the one thing that remained consistent about his face. His glasses. Ivan knew instantly where to start in that moment, so started a rough sketch of Alfred's glasses. He gave them a shape, then he started shading them. Once he was done with that, he felt a certain satisfaction that he'd managed to accomplish drawing some part of Alfred whilst he was practically dancing in his seat. He'd rather have Francis as a partner, since he was sitting almost stone still.

He added the finishing touches to his drawing of Alfred's glasses just as Mrs Denver walked to the front of the classroom.

"Time's up," she said. "I want you to show your partner your drawings."

Casually, he slid his drawing to Alfred and received his own.

"What the Hell, dude?" Alfred scowled. "Why did you _only_ draw my glasses?"

Anger rose within Ivan. "I didn't know how to start."

"May I see?" Mrs Denver asked as she approached, strangely interested in his artwork today.

Much to Ivan's dismay, Alfred held his drawing up for the whole class to see. He lowered his head slightly, trying to ignore the glances people sent him for drawing the glasses.

"I quite like this," Mrs Denver was saying. "Ivan's focused on a particular aspect of you that stands out to him, and he's really put a lot of thought into it. Very interesting, very abstract."

Ivan wasn't sure if he should feel offended or particularly smug that she was consistently calling him "abstract". He assessed Alfred's drawing of him as Mrs Denver walked away.

"Why do I look like you?" his brows furrowed.

Alfred leant over the desk. "You don't look _anything_ like me. _What_ are you talking about?"

"Oh, wait, that's probably just the American flag in the background and the fact that I've got a speech bubble chanting "USA" over and over…" Ivan scowled.

"America's the best," Alfred replied.

"You're way too patriotic," Arthur glanced at them both.

Mrs Denver decided the rest of the lesson would be spent drawing a fruit bowl.

"Why don't you put glasses on them, Ivan?" Alfred whispered. "You're good at glasses."

"What's your problem?" Ivan shrugged. "She liked the artwork that was inspired by you…"

That seemed to satisfy him for now. However, they had to struggle through the rest of the lesson drawing a boring bowl of fruit. Ivan considered adding glasses, but then thought the audacity of it would erase his earlier credit, and refrained from doing so.

Once class was over, Ivan made sure he was first out of the class. He hated Art, because it was boring, and he had no love for it. He also decided that he would hate it even more, since he would have to work with Alfred for the next term.

"You should have seen that prick's face when we swapped our pictures," Yao complained to Francis as they walked along. "He went from that usual soulless look to one of contempt and pity. The little shit– it really annoyed me. And you know what's worse? He's good at drawing, so I can't scowl at his work and give him daggers for drawing me shitly."

"'Shitly isn't a word," Arthur commented as Francis nodded in appreciation of the story. "Terribly is, though." Yao just rolled his eyes in response to that.

Ivan sometimes felt he was the awkward one within the group. Whilst he sometimes spoke with Francis, there was no particular like between them, and it seemed that the French student found him a little odd or intimidating. Yao was OK, and probably the one he got on well most with. Arthur was more irritating, with his annoying habit of grammatically correcting everybody as well as his superiority complex that bugged Ivan.

Then there was Alfred. How he was even friends with Alfred, Ivan sometimes wondered. They had so many differences that they had fallen out so many times throughout the years. His laugh grated on him, and there were times when he wanted to push Alfred down the stairs and call it an accident. When they had first met, the two of them had despised each other, and whilst there were times when he could stand being in Alfred's presence, it didn't quite compare to the rest of the time when he would rather walk away from the lot of them.

Ivan had first come into the school thinking he would rise in power and popularity above all. That hadn't happened. As a matter of fact, during his younger years, he had attempted to hang out with Toris and Eduard, and although that had lasted until Year Nine, they seemed to always have those glances between one another that implied he was just… left out. Year Ten came, and he somehow was lumped into Alfred's gang. In truth, Ivan had no one else to hang out with, and had been waiting for his last day of school when he would never see any of them again, and where he could leap into the real world and hit the ground running.

OK – maybe that was an exaggeration. He was just a little offended at how Alfred had criticised his drawing, when his was actually poorly drawn. He actually didn't mind hanging out with the others, and he would possibly keep in contact with all of them. Alfred's company could actually be enjoyable, and he had undoubtedly bonded with him over the years to the extent where his past self would grudgingly admit Alfred was merely 'OK'.

His older sister had strictly told him to be nicer to people anyway.

They were on their way to their next class, Home Economics, which he absolutely adored, when they saw a large crowd hanging around what looked like a poster. Instantly, Alfred's attention was drawn, and whilst Ivan wanted to get to one of his favourite classes as quickly as he could, he didn't want to leave any of the others. If there was one thing he hated, then it was being alone, no matter where he went.

Alfred seemed to want to wait for the crowd to disperse. Once he did, he closed in on the poster and looked at it very carefully.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed. "A talent show! It's at the end of this term… I should really go for it. I bet I could win with my fantastic humour and total hero's voice."

"Don't be ridiculous," Arthur scowled. "They're looking for _talent_ , not _torture_."

"Don't you do magic tricks, Arthur?" Francis glanced at him. "You could go for that and you might win."

"Well, maybe, but I don't take my magic so lightly to enter competitions calling it a 'talent'," Arthur folded his arms as he considered the poster. "It's an _art_ , not a talent."

"I'll think about it," Alfred tapped the poster. "And speaking of art, why the Hell did you just draw my glasses, dude?"

"I don't see why you can't just move on?" Ivan frowned. "You wear glasses, so why does it offend you so much that I should draw glasses?"

"Well, because… I like to think my glasses don't define who I am?" Alfred replied. "Hey, I'm not saying it was bad, I'm just wondering…"

Ivan sighed. "Honestly? You kept moving and your glasses were the only consistent thing."

He suddenly snickered.

"What?" Ivan glanced at him.

"I'm not easily offended," Alfred laughed. "If you'd told me to stop moving so much, I would've checked myself. Dude, you gotta ramp up your confidence."

Ivan smiled despite himself and then shrugged. He didn't even care when Alfred clapped a hand to his shoulder and grinned at him.

"We'll be working together in class for the next term or so, anyway," he said. "So I'll bear in mind to not move so much."

"OK," Ivan shrugged, liking the amount of control Alfred was giving him in their Art lessons.

"We have Home Ec, now," Alfred winced and glanced at Arthur. "Hopefully Mrs Tembry will have learnt her lesson and won't let you cook."

"What's wrong with my cooking, you wanker?" Arthur glared at him. "I'll have you know that I'm probably the best at cooking out of all if us."

"Absolutely not," Francis protested. "I'll have you know that myself and Yao actually are part of a restaurant club membership outside of school. Also, Ivan's always in the kitchen at home. You should consider the membership."

"It's actually really fun," Yao explained. "It's all these little recipes they teach you on a Saturday afternoon. You get to keep the instructions."

Ivan shrugged. "My father's a little frosty… He doesn't like me interacting with people much."

He knew the words sounded odd as soon as he'd said them, but fortunately, they reached the classroom and no one delved into the subject. They left their bags outside the room, and walked to their allocated tables. Mrs Tembry hated when things went out of place, and therefore despised people moving tables. She kept a desk plan.

Ivan was lucky enough to share a table space with Arthur. Roderich and Elizabeta were nice enough, but they didn't really talk to him much. He glanced across the room and saw Francis giving him the thumbs up for good luck. Perhaps Ivan didn't hate these guys as much as he said, but sometimes they annoyed him past the point of frustration.

He cheerfully tied his apron around his waist, and wondered whether he should talk to his father about joining this restaurant club of Yao and Francis's.

* * *

 **A/N:** _Here we have it! Chapter 2 of Gakutalia: The First Term. Poor Ivan, always getting set aside... Hopefully the bond between these friends will strengthen. I'm on a short holiday, so a Gakutalia post is perhaps to be expected when I return. Thank you very much for reading, and don't forget to leave a review - I love hearing other people's opinions on what I've written, and also greatly enjoy replying. Thank you very much for reading Gakutalia. Until next time._

 _Alfred Jones: America  
Ivan Braginsky: Russia  
Arthur Kirkland: England  
Francis Bonnefoy: France  
Yao Wang: China  
Feliciano Vargas: Italy  
Ludwig Beilschmidt: Germany  
Kiku Honda: Japan  
Roderich Edelstein: Austria  
Elizabeta Hédévary: Hungary  
Toris Laurinaitis: Lithuania  
Eduard von Bock: Estonia_


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N:** _Hey all! I'm back! My vacation is over and Arthur is ready to take the baton! I hope you're all enjoying Gakutalia so far, as the next chapter is finally here!_

* * *

 **A.K.**

Arthur had always had a passion for cooking. Ever since he was a little boy, he had built up on his talents as a chef in order to craft the most delectable foods ever. He liked things that were so undeniably British, and really credited himself for being able to accomplish making such meals. Although his parents attempted to prevent him going into the kitchen, and if he did go into the kitchen, his little brother, Peter, wasn't allowed in, for reasons Arthur really didn't want to disclose.

He was always one who looked forward to cooking a good meal. Luckily, he shared a table with Ivan, so he had someone to amiably chat with whilst he cooked. He found the process of making a meal a sociable one.

"What might we be making today?" he asked, standing beside Ivan, who was assessing the recipe.

Ivan glanced at him. "Cake. Lemon drizzle with lemon buttercream icing."

"That sounds fancy," Arthur commented.

"Not really," Ivan said. "Makeable in the time we have. Nothing elaborate."

Arthur nodded with a stiff jaw. That was only thing he found annoying about Ivan. When it came to things he happened to be interested in, he apparently knew everything there was to it. It was the same when they were in textiles, because Ivan happened to like knitting.

Arthur remembered the first time the Russian student had acted in this way. They had been in Year Twelve, so just last year, when he, Arthur, had been telling Leon about his embroidery classes that he was excelling in. Ivan had raised his head and suddenly jumped in on the conversation, talking about threading styles and techniques. Arthur vaguely remembered remarking in a snarky manner that his grandma shared a knitting class with him. That had ended the conversation rather violently. He recalled Ivan turning away in his seat, shaking his head and muttered "cool, cool, cool" in an offended manner.

Arthur slid the recipe closer to himself and then held it in his hands. "I suppose you're right – it does look simple. I bet I could make it blindfolded and with one hand!"

"Why would you do that?" Ivan gave him an odd look.

"I-it's a joke," he replied pointedly. "Can't you take a joke?"

"Better than your grandma; since I'm such good friends with her, I know her well," he answered, just as Mrs Tembry walked in.

Arthur chose to completely flat out ignore that comment. He was surprised Ivan had held the grudge for so long, let alone remembered the conversation. He had hoped it was one of those things you thought about every now and then and desperately prayed the other person didn't remember it. However, it seemed that was not the case.

"Alfred Jones, get your apron on," Mrs Tembry ordered, her apron already on. "What are you all waiting for? We have a recipe to follow. I hope you've all read it because I expect you to start baking right now."

Arthur and Ivan seemed to be the only ones who had bothered to read the recipe, because they only needed to give it a glance before collecting ingredients. After the grandma comment, Arthur felt strangely competitive, and wanted to beat Ivan when came to cooking.

He kept pacing himself to be at the same level with Ivan. He would mix the ingredients when Ivan was mixing them, he would blend them when Ivan did, fold them when Ivan did. In other words, Arthur Kirkland was doing everything at the same time Ivan did. He was watching the other boy so much that he didn't notice when a bit of egg shell went into his cake mixture, or that he didn't properly mix everything. He glowered as Ivan halved his cake mix into his already lined tins. He slopped his mixture in unevenly, and spilt some on the floor in the process.

Ivan put his first cake half in the oven, and Arthur spun round too fast. He knocked Ivan as they passed one another. Ivan slipped on the cake mixture Arthur had spilt and stumbled past, accidentally pushing Arthur as he did so. Arthur's cake tin went flying out of his hands and landed on the oven. As he went down, Arthur's elbow hit the oven's side. He slid away from the open oven door, swiftly closed it, and grabbed hold of the table to help himself stand. His fingers closed around an edge which he pulled and the other half of his cake fell down to splat on his head. Roderich jumped back when a bit of cake mixture went on his shoe and tried wiping it on the table in disdain.

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Arthur growled and pulled himself to his feet.

"Oh my God, Arthur away from the oven!" Elizabeta panicked.

Arthur turned to see his cake mixture sizzling stickily across the oven's hobs. Suddenly, a flame erupted from the cake mixture and started spreading.

"How did you set fire to cake mix?" Francis bellowed with laughter from across the class.

"Shut up, frog," Arthur glared at him, just as the fire alarm sounded and the sprinklers erupted.

Everyone was doused with a stream of water. Mrs Tembry forced her class to march the walk of shame whilst she removed all the cakes to prevent any further fires. They all stood in a line, shame faced.

"You're all Year Thirteen," Mrs Tembry scolded them quietly before they dispersed amongst their forms. "I should expect more sensible behaviour from the oldest students in this school. For threatening our entire foundation, I want Mr Kirkland and Mr Braginsky to stay late after school."

"But Mrs Tembry, my dad will be really angry to have me home any later!" Ivan protested.

She pointed and glowered at him. "You must learn from your mistakes. No exceptions."

Arthur bit his lip and fell into step alongside Ivan. "Sorry, there."

Ivan glared at him and walked faster, creating rapid distance between the two of them. Arthur found himself forced in the company of Francis.

"Looks like you can't cook after all," he sniggered. "Burning cake mix! Only you could do that!"

"I said would you shut up?" Arthur let out an agitated sigh. "I feel really bad now… Ivan has to stay late because of me, and from the sounds of it, his father sounds very strict…"

Francis's expression suddenly became pitying. "I wouldn't worry too much, Arthur. Ivan will forgive you."

"He seemed really pissed off," Arthur pressed his lips together and looked at Ivan disappearing into the crowd. "Not only did I grandly fuck up his favourite lesson, I also got him in trouble…"

"I do want to know how you set fire to cake mix, though?" Francis sneaked a glance at him.

"I don't know," Arthur groaned. "I wasn't paying full attention to my own cake. I was more focused on his because he'd been telling me how easy the recipe seemed to follow and I wanted to see how he did it and whether he found it easy. I think he found it easy."

"Did you find it easy?" Francis continued to prompt.

"Are you still trying to suggest I can't bloody cook?" Arthur snapped. "Because I can cook, just not bake."

Francis nodded mysteriously, but didn't press further into the conversation. They lined themselves up in their forms, and waited for their form room teacher to arrive. Arthur noticed he was receiving glances from his fellow students from the Home Ec class. That was possibly because they were cold from the water that had fallen once the fire had begun.

"I think it's safe to say we won't be continuing our cooking class," Francis said.

Arthur glared at him. "What point are you trying to make?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "I suppose that, not only did you ruin Ivan's favoured lesson, but you also got cake mix over Roderich's shoes."

There was a disdainful grunt from behind them and they turned to see Roderich (and Ivan) glowering at Arthur.

"These shoes were my finest for school," he complained.

"Sorry," Arthur muttered, and retreated further down the line to stand in between Heracles Karpusi and Toris Laurinaitis.

"That was totally amazing what you did back there, dude!" Alfred whispered loudly, leaning out of line. "I don't even know how you managed it, but now we don't have to suffer at the hands of that miserable Mrs Tembry!"

"I could've burnt the bloody school down," Arthur looked at him in horror. "How would _that_ have been amazing?"

"Alfred, in the line and stop talking," Mrs Tembry snapped as she hovered dangerously close.

Alfred clamped his mouth shut and turned his head away.

"Why are we out here?" Heracles turned to whisper, head bent close to Arthur's.

Arthur sometimes found it uncomfortable how Heracles honestly didn't give a damn about personal space, or what was acceptable to say to one another.

"Um, I may have set fire to my Home Ec. work," Arthur frowned.

"Wow, really?" Toris sounded mildly astonished from behind. "Was it a big fire?"

"No, of course not," Arthur replied. "We'll still have time for more of our current lesson."

"Fine by me if we don't," Heracles shrugged. "I've never been exactly enthusiastic by work…"

"It just gives me a break to text around and see if anyone else is breaking the silence rule," Feliks snickered from behind, tapping away at his phone.

"You really shouldn't do that," Toris fretted. "You could get seen."

"Stop talking at the back, Toris," Mrs Tembry snapped.

Feliks looked at him with an easy going smile, regardless of the angry teacher's comment. "No, I won't. I'm too short to be even noticed properly. Besides, there was this article on the Daily Mail about a woman who ate so many cakes she had to go to hospital. I have to read about it!"

"Don't come running to me if Mrs Tembry takes your phone," Toris frowned, and turned back to look ahead.

Arthur wondered how he always seems stuck with the strangest people. It was OK to admit Feliks was a kind of cool kid, but that was when you put aside the fact that he was that one guy who came into school with his nails painted, proclaiming it was a "fashion statement" in Year Twelve. Arthur recalled Ivan saying he wouldn't go anywhere near him until the nail colour was out of sight, however, Arthur was sure that Ivan was just a little homophobic…

"Oh, did you hear about Mr Vurkel?" Feliks continued.

Arthur turned slightly. "I was wondering where he was. I heard he was having family difficulties?"

Mr Vurkel was Arthur's favourite English teacher. He had always been the top of the class, and had always been eager to tell Mr Vurkel all his ideas. He had been one of those truly inspirational teachers, but had just not arrived at the beginning of the year, and there had been little explanation to accompany that.

"He got fired, apparently for having a student relationship," Feliks tapped away at his phone.

"Do you know who?" Toris asked, suddenly interested.

"Not yet," Feliks looked cunning. "But I heard the student was _male_. I bet it's Basch; he's always so quiet and detached from the rest of us that I think he could easily hide the secret of having something going on with a teacher."

"Does he even play for that team?" Arthur frowned.

"I don't know," Feliks shrugged. "But I'm going to find out."

"Mr Lukasiewicz, what did you not understand about not talking?" Mrs Tembry started approaching and the Polish student shoved his phone in his blazer. "If you talk any more, I'll have to keep you in after school."

Arthur couldn't help but notice that he stored his phone in _inside pockets_. Their academy only provided the older students in Years Twelve and Thirteen with pockets on the outside, probably as a measure to reduce the usage of mobile phones. However, it seemed Feliks had gone to the effort to have pockets put into his blazer. Arthur wondered if he should get that done, too, but decided it wouldn't be worth the money, what with this being his final year.

"Oh, I'm really sorry, Mrs Tembry," Feliks said flatly. "I'll try not speaking anymore."

"Well, good," she huffed, and walked off.

"Apart from in your lessons," Feliks sneered at her back and then shrugged.

It was in that moment that the clouds decided to weep upon the throng of students crowded outside. Multiple glares were directed towards Arthur as, by now, everyone knew he was responsible for the fire in the first place, and therefore the reason they were outside.

"My hair is going to be ruined," Feliks complained.

"I'll be seeing you after school, Mr Lukasiewicz!" Mrs Tembry screeched from the front of the line, as Feliks scowled and looked over his shoulder to show the other students his careless disdain.

* * *

 **A/N:** _Waa, waa! Chapter 3 is finally completed! I'm still currently introducing the school lives of each student, and I can guarantee that Kiku or Yao is next! I'm thinking Kiku, because we haven't heard anything from the Axis Powers in a while! Ta ta for now, until next time!_

Alfred Jones: _America_  
Ivan Braginsky: _Russia_  
Arthur Kirkland: _England_  
Francis Bonnefoy: _France_  
Yao Wang: _China_  
Ludwig Beilschmidt: _Germany_  
Feliciano Vargas: _Italy_  
Kiku Honda: _Japan_  
Peter Kirkland: _Sealand_  
Li Xiao "Leon" Chun: _Hong Kong_  
Elizabeta Hédeváry: _Hungary_  
Roderich Edelstein: _Austria_  
Heracles Karpusi: _Greece_  
Toris Laurinaitis: _Lithuania_  
Feliks Lukasiewicz: _Poland_


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N:** _Hey, everyone! I'd just like to say thank you for sticking with Gakutalia so far, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!_

* * *

 **K.H.**

Kiku stood underneath the rain. He raised his head and looked skywards. He hated it when fire alarms went off, because it meant you had to line up in your forms. That meant being packed in a tight line amongst other students when all he wanted was to create a little bubble around himself and hide away from other students.

He had first arrived at this school in Year Three, which was where he met, and befriended Yao. The two of them had been inseparable, and there was a thin line between friendship and brotherly love between them. However, there was a time in Year Four where they had had a large fight. It was an off the scale type of large, and left the two of them off of talking terms. It was at the end of that year that Kiku's father decided he wanted his only son to attend a strict boarding school until he was mature. Kiku left the school without even saying goodbye to Yao. Distance and separation were the only factors that left the two in the same position as strangers would be.

Kiku spent the next six years under the brutal, almost military fashion, boarding school. He was isolated there, and found it difficult to make friends with many of the other students. It was a boy's school, and he was the smallest in his class. Excessive bullying led him to a life of seclusion, for which he even became edgy about sharing a room with his roommate. Personal space became something that Kiku learnt to value more than people. It was also a school that remained with the firm belief of corporal punishment. Just as his father had desired, Kiku's school whipped him into shape. It wasn't necessarily illegal, because the students who left were all young men hardened by their experiences and realistic in nature; besides, the school's governors and benefactors had extremely high positions in society, and the academy often got away with its actions.

At the summer of Year Nine, his father looked upon his son and decided he was a changed man, with the overly formal manner and polite nature. He decided his son was ready for the established school of Hetalia, and was unafraid to return his son to where he had been taken from.

Kiku, at this stage, no longer cared where he had his education, but was more focused on having an education at all. His arrival in Year Ten seemed new to all the students, until, on a chance meeting with Yao during his second week, they realised he was the same Kiku Honda who had been abruptly withdrawn from the school.

Kiku was a changed man, though. He regarded Yao with cold formality. There was no mention of the five years he had disappeared into, and he didn't inquire into Yao's life story, either. As a matter of fact, his lack of an emotional display was worrisome to many, but was also the new face of Kiku Honda. He was the "new" student who met Ludwig Beilschmidt and Feliciano Vargas in Year Ten. The three of them became friends very quickly, and ever since then, Kiku had kept away from most others.

However, he still had issues about personal space, which was why he felt slightly claustrophobic being wedged in between Elizabeta Hédeváry and Alfred Jones. It was slightly irritating to hear Alfred talking to Arthur about burning the school down in a cool way, however, he expected no less maturity from the other boy, and it was for that reason that he let it all slide.

Kiku was all one for not saying much, unless it was answering questions in class. That was why, when he had had the opportunity to peacefully bake a cake, Arthur had managed to ruin the entire thing. He didn't want to blame the other boy for being a hopeless chef, but he was sure he must've done something different to have burnt the cake mixture. Kiku thought that, sometimes, Arthur could be just as careless as Alfred.

Whilst he didn't mind standing in the rain, he was aware that his father wouldn't like him returning home drenched. Therefore, he was displeased at having to bring this inconvenience back home. He snuck a glance over his shoulder and caught Fel's eye. The Italian boy smiled and waved, but he only offered a smile in return, because he didn't want to get in trouble.

Their form tutor, Mr Saunders, started calling along the register.

"Kiku Honda," he said as he passed.

"Present," Kiku answered, and watched him walk on by.

Mr Saunders was a middle aged man who didn't give a damn for the students in his class. During Form Time and PSHCE, he allowed his students to do whatever they liked. He would get them to memorise one fact so he could at least tell his superiors that they'd learnt something from him. Kiku was sure he cared even less when he was teaching them Science, considering towards the end of term, he would tell them all just to make of poster of something they'd learnt in the year.

He was gone, and Kiku continued to reflect on the rain falling on his head. It was only a light shower, but it could build up. He raised his face once more up to the rain and continued to let the drops slide serenely down his face.

Mrs Tembry was not amused. She was, however, extremely angry, and, as a result, had them hand-wash all their dishes and stay in for lunch to finish their cakes. Kiku believed the only person particularly enthralled by that was Ivan Braginsky.

He wandered out of that class with the other two. Ludwig had a sour expression on his face, but Fel seemed cheerful as always, pin wheeling his arms around.

"That sucked," Ludwig complained. "I had at least wanted a full lunch today."

"I know what you mean," Kiku agreed. "I actually have manga club today, so it's just you two."

"What are you doing for lunch?" Fel frowned. "You can't just skip!"

"I don't intend to skip," Kiku assured them. "I'll run in and smuggle a sandwich from there. Afterwards, I'll head up to the club and eat it there. I run it this year, so I feel as if I should be on time to the first session."

The three of them entered lunch together as usual. Today, it seemed Miss Lore was on lunch duty. Miss Lore taught Music, and was a hard woman to impress. She only liked students who had a grade in any form of musical art. She was always involved with everything musical, and no doubt she had something to do with the recent Talent Show that Kiku had seen on posters around school. She was a tall, spidery woman who, as far as Kiku was concerned, had been through five engagements, three marriages and three divorces. She was bitter to all students apart from Roderich Edelstein, who was the only one in their entire year who had a remote interest towards music. It was for that reason that he won so many music awards. Whilst he was extremely talented, he had the evil Miss Lore right behind his back, pushing him towards all sorts of competitions.

A rumour started by Feliks Lukasiewicz in Year Eleven went around saying Miss Lore's previous marriages were the students who were the top of their year, musically, and that Roderich was next, considering how much he hung out with her. The idea of the rumour was that they were forced to marry her, and had to stay with her until someone better at music than them arrived. Feliks added that, because Roderich was the most talented person in music he'd ever met, that there would be no one who could outdo him and he'd be married to her forever. Roderich only discovered the rumour at the end of Year Twelve when Fel accidentally told him about it. Although he outraged and didn't seem to believe it, Year Thirteen saw Roderich Edelstein being a bit more independent in his musical endeavours. Miss Lore had been even bitterer towards the student masses as a result, but still praised the ground Roderich walked on.

Kiku knew it would be hard to get anything past her watchful eye, so he intended to be the stealthiest for this. He would never let his lunch get in the way of his manga club, since it was the only thing he could unwind in.

Kiku separated from Ludwig and Fel in the lunch queue waiting for hot food, and instead turned his way towards the cold food. He browsed along the sandwiches, then picked a simple cheese one. As he slipped through the crowd, he dropped the sandwich silently into his pocket.

A thin, bony hand touched his shoulder. Kiku turned his head and saw the cold eyes of Miss Lore boring into his. There had been times in the past when other students in his boarding school had described him as the kid with "soulless eyes". Miss Lore put a whole new standard to that theme.

"Are you… taking food out of the lunch hall?" she asked ominously.

"No, Miss Lore," Kiku lied.

"Then, why it is in your pocket?" she asked cruelly.

Kiku arrogantly shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about, Miss. I have no sandwich."

"It's in your pocket," she said.

Kiku felt around in all his pockets, as well as skimming his hands casually over the sandwich. He gave her a nonchalant shrug in response, knowing this was probably a wrong move, but determined to sacrifice his own image for the sake of the manga club members.

"After school detention," Miss Lore shrieked. "Never would I expect a student to speak to me like that!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, choosing to play his cards carefully. "However, I will arrive at the detention room after school and alert them of my presence."

She regarded him cautiously. For a moment, Kiku thought that, like moments in the past, his extremely rational stance would convince her otherwise, and she would 'realise' she was overreacting. Unfortunately, it didn't turn out that way. She scrutinised him carefully, before a satisfied expression crossed her face.

"Fine," she said, and stalked off.

Relieved to be out of her presence, Kiku hurried out of the lunch hall. He was deeply distressed inside that he had earned a detention. His father would not be happy to hear about that, and he would be even less happy to hear it was over a sandwich for his manga class. Kiku knew his mother would be more understanding, but that wouldn't change the way his father acted.

The manga club was actually held in an ICT room. It was upstairs near the Maths room that had begun Kiku's day. He pushed open the door wearily and wandered into the room. The greatest disappointment would be if no one turned up. However, he was early and had time to finish off his sandwich.

He sat in a corner of the room, hidden from view of the door, and swiftly tucked into the sandwich. You weren't supposed to eat in the ICT rooms, but Kiku really didn't mind at this stage. He'd eaten in this room so many times before and nothing had happened to any of the computers.

Someone entered the room. He hid his sandwich, and then saw it was Yong Soo Im from the year below. He held the sandwich to his mouth once more and watched the younger boy throw himself down in a chair.

"What are we doing today?" he asked nonchalantly.

"I want to do figures," Kiku answered, finishing off his sandwich and throwing the wrapper in the bin. "So, that's what we'll be doing. You, being one of the older students who has attended more, will be doing detailed positions opposed to basic ones. Today is all about proportion."

Yong Soo huffed. "I hate it how _you_ were picked to be the next leader of the manga club."

"No one else in my year does manga," Kiku sighed. "Of course I'd be picked by the previous leader of the manga club."

"Heh, does that mean I can ask you to pick me?" Yong Soo snickered.

"You can ask, but that doesn't mean you can get," Kiku said. "You see this pen I use for my manga?"

He held up a beautiful ink pen that seemed old, and Yong Soo's eyes shone at the sight of it.

"It was given to me by the previous leader of this manga club," Kiku explained. "At the end of this year, I'll be handing this to the next leader of the manga club. Judging by the strained acquaintance between us, I can't promise it will be you."

Yong Soo could be irritating at times, and it was obviously because he admired Yao like a brother. Kiku, who had been rude to Yao in Year Four, was not Yong Soo's favourite person. However, Kiku liked how Yong Soo was genuinely interested in manga, since he continued to attend despite his dislike for Kiku.

Other younger years began to arrive, and Kiku contented himself to teaching the class.

* * *

 **A/N:** _A little insight into the life of Kiku! I wonder who will be getting the next chapter! It's either France, Italy or China, so we'll see! Until next time!_

Alfred Jones: _America_  
Arthur Kirkland: _England_  
Ivan Braginsky: _Russia_  
Francis Bonnefoy: _France_  
Yao Wang: _China_  
Kiku Honda: _Japan_  
Ludwig Beilschmidt: _Germany_  
Feliciano Vargas: _Italy_  
Elizabeta Hédeváry: _Hungary_  
Feliks Lukasiewics: _Poland_  
Roderich Edelstein: _Austria_  
Yong Soo Im: _South Korea_


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N:** _Oh my! It's been a long time since I've updated this - I'll admit, I've missed my deadline by about a week, so I'm very sorry for not posting. I honestly have no excuse, so instead I'll just post this chapter and hope everyone forgives me! Here it is! The next chapter of Gakutalia!_

* * *

 **W.Y.**

The lunch queue was always a perilous place to be. It ranged from students in Year Thirteen all the way down to Year Seven. Yao remembered first coming into the higher school, since Years Six and below ate at a different place. The immense crowds that drifted slowly towards the food reminded Yao a bit of a traffic jam. It was slow, and if you were prone to fainting from a lack of food, it was best to sprint to lunch straight after your lesson before lunch. Whilst there was a vague system, students who had a club could get priority tickets by attending clubs. It was a system that dodged students attending once just to get into lunch earlier.

The tickets were plastic, and could be drawn on with board pens. The leader of the club you attended would write your name on the card each week at the end of the club if it was a first lunch club. Next week, you would use that ticket to get into lunch earlier. You would hand the ticket into the teacher on duty, and you would be allowed to pass. You would get a new ticket for next week. Since names could be rubbed off, the tickets could constantly circulate around the whole school; if more were needed, then more could be made.

If you were the average hoi polloi, then you had to face what a very little Yao Wang in Year Seven called "the Crush". If you were short, like eleven year old Yao had been, you would be enveloped by the sheer volumes of students that crowded towards the lunch hall, and were only allowed through in about groups of ten. If you did no clubs, then you would have to suffer having to deal with jocks pushing each other around, girls bickering about other girls they hated, nerds tapping on their latest gadgets and discussing when they'd be meeting up for their next session of Dungeons and Dragons, that one kid who is always stepping on other peoples feet and ends up apologising to everyone to the point where you're driven crazy, as well as the younger students who hang around at your waist talking about irrelevant things that you really don't care about, but because their voices are so loud, you can't help but hear that a girl in Year Eight had her first "date" with a kid in her year or the year above, and a boy in Year Ten boasting about how he got to third base with some girl in his year that was considered the most popular. Yao had even been there, that Year Ten boy, except he had lied, and Elizabeta had not appreciated that in the slightest, no matter how much it impressed the older boys as well as Alfred and the others.

"Dude, it's hamburgers for lunch today!" Alfred cheered as they shuffled that little bit closer to food salvation.

"I swear all you think and breathe is hamburgers," Arthur rolled his eyes. "Why don't they ever have a good old roast more often?"

"They don't do Russian food, ever," Ivan sighed. "Sometimes a bit of cuisine from the homeland really can make you feel better."

"I quite like how they implemented stir fry last year," Yao shrugged. "But it always seems to be brought out on rare occasions. You know what food they always have? Italian food."

"That's because pasta's easy to make," Francis said.

"They have lasagne, spaghetti bolognaise, plain pasta with garlic and olive tomato sauce, pizza slices on some days and even that bread they have that does taste nice, I'll admit, but is still Italian," Yao shrugged.

"You got something against Italians, dude?" Alfred looked at him, amazed.

"No, I just wish they'd be a bit more experimental," Yao sighed. "In our Saturday food club, I and Francis are always trying out new and exciting recipes!"

"Oui!" Francis agreed. "There's just so much we make that I think I'll be the most popular of my roommates when in university. I'd have to compete if I and Yao happened to be in the same university, the same accommodation, let alone the same room."

Yao had a feeling he wouldn't be in the same university as Francis. Whilst his French friend had a flair towards the creative and cultural side of life, and would probably move into a career that involved people, he had the ambition and drive that was to push him towards a business career. Yao strongly believed that, once he was in university, he would see very little of any of the other four. However, that didn't mean Yao didn't want to keep in contact. He genuinely did. University was, at most, five years of his life. He had so many more afterwards to rekindle his friendships.

"You're very distant, Yao," Alfred commented, walking backwards in the queue. "What's on your mind?"

"I'm just thinking about university," Yao admitted.

"Dude, c'mon!" Alfred grinned. "It's ages until uni! We have so much time to just chill out before that. I mean, I'm thinking of taking a gap year!"

"Really?" Francis looked enthralled. "Same with me. I was thinking about travelling the world and becoming experienced in varying cultures. Perhaps we can travel together?"

"Sounds awesome, dude!" Alfred beamed.

"I think I'll go straight on to university," Yao said. "I want to get my studies over and done with…"

"I have that feeling, too," Arthur said. "Then at least I can move on from the educational period of my life and just get on with the bloody real one."

"What about you, Ivan?" Yao asked. "What are you thinking of doing?"

Ivan glanced at them all, surprised, and then nervously laughed. "I honestly don't know. I think I'll have decided by the end of the year."

That was an acceptable answer in the eyes of all of them. Ivan had always been a little closed off from them, Yao recalled, but his involvement with their group had only been a little more recent compared to everyone else's. Yao himself had been an extension in Year Five, he was aware Alfred had instantly become friends with both Arthur and Francis in Year Two, but that Arthur and Francis had known each other since Reception. Ivan had only started hanging out with them in Year Ten. Yao thought he was nice, but some part of him always felt there was something hidden beneath his smile.

They finally got into lunch. Yao miserably had a hamburger slapped on his plate, because the other options were always cold food or dry jacket potato, and he liked neither. He couldn't be bothered to queue for cheese and other stuff people liked to put in their burgers, so instead cut the queue into the desert section. It was rare that there was a fantastic desert at their school. When it came to sugar, the school decided that they would suddenly go towards the healthier, fruitier option, even if they were serving burgers for the main meal. However, today was chocolate cake. It wasn't exactly gourmet or freshly baked, it was some easy mix bulk cake that was served, but it was probably Yao's favourite desert they served at school.

He was the first out, Arthur not far behind, because neither of them had wanted to stuff their burgers full to bursting. He slapped his tray down on a table and settled himself down, Arthur sitting beside him.

"Hey, Arthur!"

Yao and Arthur both turned their heads to see the latter's younger brother, Peter, approaching with his tray in his hands.

"What do you want, Peter?" Arthur scowled. "You can't sit with us."

"I just wanted to say 'hi' to you and your friend," Peter frowned, as his own friend hovered a little bit behind him with an awkward expression on his face.

"Well, you've said it, now bye," Arthur frowned.

"I don't think we've met," Peter said to Yao. "I'm Peter. I'm Arthur's little brother in Year Nine."

"Um, hi," Yao said.

"Oh, salut, Peter," Francis said as he passed by the younger boys and seated himself on the other side of Arthur. "How is your first week back?"

Peter sighed. "I really hate all the work. It's so much harder in comparison to Year Eight…"

"Year Nine is nothing compared to Year Thirteen," Arthur scowled.

Ivan settled beside Yao, as Alfred dumped his tray next to Francis.

"Hey, there kid!" Alfred grinned and ruffled Peter's hair. "How you been?"

"I've been great!" Peter's eyes shone with excitement at the sight of Alfred. "My summer was absolutely amazing, so it's really a shame that it's all over."

"I couldn't agree with you more," Alfred said, and patted him on the shoulder, before sitting down beside Francis.

"Oh, hey, Rai," Ivan said to Peter's friend.

"O-oh, hello, Ivan," he stammered, looking surprised, and then lowered his eyes to his tray.

"We'll be on our way, then," Peter announced, and brightly hurried off, his friend trailing awkwardly after him.

"How do you know Peter's friend?" Arthur asked Ivan.

"Oh, our fathers know one another very well," Ivan explained. "He's been round my house several times."

"What's his name again… Raivis…" Arthur pondered. "I've always found him to a bit… well, you know… nervy. Obviously, Peter doesn't notice – you don't when you're younger – but the kid just seems constantly anxious. Do you think you'd know why?"

Ivan shrugged, looking down at his food. "If there's a reason, it's passed over my head."

Arthur nodded, content with the answer.

"We should really do something with our school lives now that we're in our final year," Alfred said, watching Peter find his own table. "Just seeing him always makes me think back to when we were in Year Nine."

Yao looked at him. "Were you thinking of anything impressive?"

"I think we should do something for the Talent Show," Alfred decided. "I know what you guys are gonna say…"

"Go on, then," Arthur scowled.

"This isn't your thing."

"No, wanker, you're on your own," Arthur continued eating.

Alfred blew out a breath and then: "Come on, Francis. You're super charismatic and confident. You should totally join me in this!"

"It depends what you have in mind," Francis looked sceptical. "I may be good at expressing my true emotions as well as being able to convey a good character towards those around me, but if you expect me to cart across the stage on a unicycle juggling hot plates, you can think again – I would not disgrace myself so."

"I was thinking more along the lines of forming a band," Alfred grinned around the table.

"Definitely not, then," Francis cringed. "I would never put myself on such an awkward thing. People would have so many expectations, and I'm not exactly one who can play an instrument or sing…"

"We all know I'm not joining this," Arthur insisted.

"You two," Alfred looked at Yao and Ivan. "You two will have to form the band with me."

"I don't really want to," Ivan frowned.

Yao cursed in his head. If he said 'no', he'd be the one to completely condemn Alfred to a world of embarrassment, but if he said 'yes', he'd have to play his role in Alfred's two man band.

"Ey," he grimaced. "I…"

"That's a 'yes'!" Alfred declared. "I knew I could always count on you, Yao."

"Didn't Miss Ronan want to see you about a lunchtime detention planner?" Arthur asked.

Alfred's face fell. "Oh my God, dude, you're right! I gotta get there right away."

Yao watched in awed horror as Alfred managed to consume his hamburger in two bites before grabbing his tray and racing away from the table.

"That's something you can't get out of now," Arthur said pityingly.

"I wish I could help you," Francis frowned. "However, once you say you'll do something for him, he'll never forget. You've practically signed your soul away."

"I know," Yao ran his hands through his hair. "Now we're going to be one of those two person bands that nobody really knows…"

"I'm sure it won't be that bad," Ivan smiled. "You two might be so bad that you won't even get through the auditions, da?"

Yao glowered at him. "I will find a way to make you join and share my pain."

Ivan frowned. "What? Why me?"

"Because you could've saved me," Yao moaned. "You could've gone, sure, yeah, whatever, and then I wouldn't have had to do it."

He grabbed his tray and stood.

"Where are you going?" Francis asked.

Yao pointed at Ivan whilst juggling his tray. "To make him join this band, even if it's the last thing I do before my social reputation is completely shattered."

"I don't know whether I should feel flattered that you want me in the band, or terrified," Ivan panicked.

"Terrified, Ivan," Yao offered him a sinister smile as he backed away. "Terrified."

* * *

 **A/N:** _Those Allied nations, always getting up to the strangest of things. For all those who read this, thank you very much for your patience and for sticking with me! Updates should become a little more regular as I've managed to sort out my personal timetable and get myself organised!_

Yao Wang - _China_  
Alfred Jones - _America_  
Arthur Kirkland - _England_  
Ivan Braginsky - _Russia_  
Francis Bonnefoy - _France_  
Peter Kirkland - _Sealand_  
Raivis (Rai) Galante - _Latvia_  
Elizabeta Hédeváry - _Hungary_


	7. Chapter 6

**A/N:** _Whoa! It's been a while (I think), but I'm finally here with the next chapter, and can fully promise that Gakutalia will be more regular from now on! Thanks so far to everyone reading Gakutalia, and I hope you continue to thoroughly enjoy reading it just as much as I enjoy writing it!_

* * *

 **F.B.**

Francis left the lunch hall with just Arthur and Ivan. It was weird to suddenly just have the three of them. He hoped Yao wasn't too upset about having to do the band thing with Alfred. He was sure everything would be fine.

"I really don't want to join their band," Ivan was worrying. "I'm genuinely afraid of what Yao's going to do…"

"He can't make you do anything," Arthur replied. "It can only be through your own choice that you have anything to do with Alfred's miserable band. He'll probably call it the 'Bumpkin Burgers' or something awful like that, and the music will be Southerner country crap. Is that enough to scare it from your mind?"

"It only makes me worry more," Ivan panicked. "The worse it is, the more Yao will be determined to recruit me. I can't really see myself being in a band; it's not my thing."

"What if he comes up with a really cool idea and song and you can be one of the bands that wear leather and that older women kind of like?" Francis suggested. "Any woman likes a man who walks around in a leather jacket, cool clunky shoes and sunglasses."

"You mean a total, and utter douchebag," Arthur interjected.

"What if I become a douchebag?" Ivan looked sick.

"This is really not something to get this worked up about, Ivan," Francis paused and stepped aside in the corridor – the other two followed his lead and they stood beside a radiator, discussing. "Yao can't make you do anything."

"He's very determined," Ivan swallowed. "And at the moment, he's angry."

"That shouldn't matter," Arthur shrugged. "If you don't want to be in a band, you don't have to be-"

"You're making a band, Ivan?" a girl with long blonde hair leant against the radiator, wedging herself in between Francis and Ivan.

"No," Ivan stepped backwards and trod on Arthur's foot.

The girl gave Francis a withering stare and he chose to hang at a distance. She was a pretty girl – Francis had seen her around, and believed she was in the year below. However, he had not known that Ivan knew her. He also disliked how grandly Ivan was messing up a potential relationship with her, since she seemed unnaturally friendly with him; closer than the average person.

"I think you would look amazing in a band," the girl continued. "Especially if you were the lead singer."

"I don't think so," Ivan replied carefully.

"Who are you?" she suddenly glowered at Francis.

"Me?" he looked surprised.

"This is my friend, Francis Bonnefoy," Ivan said with a stiff jaw.

"Which way do you swing?" she asked.

"What?" Francis blinked.

"Natalya!" Ivan brought a palm to his forehead. "You can't just…"

"I'm sorry, Ivan," she beamed, nudging him lightly in the arm. "I just want to protect you from someone who could hurt you, that's all."

"I don't need protection," Ivan said, shrugging her off. "C'mon you two."

He started walking off, and Francis followed after. He thought that, had there been an explosion, Ivan would've looked like one of those badass main characters that just casually walk away from it. All he needed were sunglasses. And a leather jacket.

"See you, Ivan," Natalya called after him.

"Yeah," he answered as they turned the corner.

"Who was that?" Francis sidled up to him. "She's in the year below. She's very pretty, Ivan; why were you being so hard to get?"

"I have to admit," Arthur frowned. "She was rather attractive, although I can't say I'll be preying on her like Francis is. If she's interested in you, Ivan, perhaps you should consider her?"

Ivan stopped dead in his tracks and looked at them in horror. Francis wondered why he was opposed to the girl so much. He had never expected Ivan to be the one to come out of the closet…

"She's my _sister_ ," Ivan stared, aghast. "That would just be... _too weird_ for words."

 _He looks so done,_ Francis thought, suddenly worried as Ivan started walking once more, a little faster before.

"You know, what?" he suddenly announced. "I don't feel well. I have a headache. I'll see you guys some other time."

Ivan changed his direction towards the medical centre. Francis and Arthur lingered in the corridor, before Francis dared a glance towards his English friend. His thick brows were furrowed in concern.

"I suppose it's just you and me this lunch," Francis blinked. "But what just happened?"

"I'm not really sure," Arthur admitted.

"Do you reckon he's under a lot of stress at home?" Francis pondered. "It would make sense. I'm not sure you've noticed, but he's been a little different this term compared to last year."

"Different?" Arthur glanced at him confused.

"Yeah, he just seems… older," Francis frowned. "Something's different about him. I wouldn't say it's enough to concern me, but I wonder if something happened to Ivan over the summer…"

"You think so?" Arthur sighed. "If that's the case, then everything at this school is going to bollocks."

"What do you mean?" Francis started a slow stroll and Arthur matched his pace.

"Did you hear about Mr Vurkel?" he asked.

Francis hadn't. "No?"

"Apparently he had a romantic relationship with a male student in our year," Arthur explained.

"Who told you that?" Francis raised an eyebrow.

"Feliks Lukasiewicz," Arthur replied.

"I would not trust a rumour spread by Feliks," Francis chuckled. "He's a major drama queen. Anything can be a good story to him, even if he makes it up."

"Wait, hear me out on this," Arthur said before Francis could continue. "Mr Vurkel gets fired, and Ivan starts acting differently. I'm not suggesting anything solid, but… you know…"

"You can't be saying that, if this rumour is true, then Ivan was the student involved?" Francis pursed his lips.

"I'd never just point a finger," Arthur said. "But you've drawn my attention today, and coincidences are rare."

"Ivan would never…" Francis frowned. "Or, at least, I would never have dreamt that Ivan would be involved with a student teacher relationship scandal. Are there any pointers to suggest he plays for the other team?"

"Baking, cooking, knitting," Arthur began. "Slightly fluttery, shy nature. He-"

"That's stereotyping," Francis rolled his eyes. "I meant, has he shown any inclination to lean towards men."

"Not that I've noticed," Arthur admitted. "If I'm completely honest, I believed he was completely against that sort of thing... but maybe not?"

"Homophobia can be a sign," Francis tapped his chin in thought. "There are many men who are in denial for what they love, and as a result, they pretend to hate what they love. His homophobia actually acts as a little piece of evidence towards this Mr Vurkel thing you have going. However, don't believe every word Feliks says. Mr Vurkel may just have moved on and chose not to let anyone know."

"Perhaps," Arthur said. "It's not like I'm pointing the finger at Ivan, because Feliks didn't mention him at all, but I really want to know what happened. Mr Vurkel was my favourite teacher. I really admired and looked up to him."

"I won't go on this potentially perilous search of yours," Francis announced. "However, I am more than happy to give you advice about this. Think about Mr Vurkel. Were you his favourite student? Did you frequently speak? Were there times when, although you wouldn't have noticed in the moment, that he seemed more interested in you than the intellect you have? Think about how Mr Vurkel acted around you, because the first thing you need to know is why he got fired. If it was a student teacher relationship, find the student. I wouldn't advise trying to seek out Mr Vurkel, though."

"What are you suggesting?" Arthur scowled. " _I_ wasn't in a relationship with Mr Vurkel, frog."

"I know, I know," Francis held up his hands with a tight smile. "This is merely friendly advice..."

Arthur nodded sceptically, as they walked down a small flight of steps into the courtyard. The weather was cold, as expected in September. It certainly wasn't the beautiful and romantic scene that Francis enjoyed in summer. It was a little bleak, a little too cold, and a little too grey. Francis spent the rest of his lunchtime walking around with Arthur, talking about nothing in particular, but reflecting on the actions of his other friends.

Francis returned to his form room with Arthur when lunch ended. Already the classroom had students inside, which included Alfred.

"Yao and Ivan not here, yet?" Francis asked as he approached.

"What? No – I thought they were with you guys," Alfred frowned.

"Oh, well, Alfred… I don't think Yao's exactly cheerful about this whole-"

The door suddenly flew open to reveal Yao standing in the doorway, interrupting Francis's sentence entirely. In his hands he held a copy of the poster, as well as what looked like a timetable. There was a triumphant gleam in his eyes as he approached and seated himself amongst the others.

"What's that you got there?" Alfred asked, curiously.

"A copy of the poster for the Talent Show," Yao spread it out before them. "I wanted to make sure I understood all the dates and entries that weren't allowed."

"And the other thing?" Alfred leant over, interested by what Yao was doing.

"This is a music timetable for all three of us," Yao explained, and a slow grin spread across his face. "I organised times throughout the week that we could meet up with both Roderich and Miss Lore about learning instruments. If we're going to be a band, we'll need talent."

"What do you mean by the 'three' of you?" Francis asked, suspicious.

Yao lowered his head slightly, and smiled, a menacing expression on his face. "Ivan is our third member."

"What?" Arthur gawked, and everyone in the class looked at him. "Sorry," – he lowered his voice once more. "How did you manage to get him to do that?"

"I haven't done it yet," Yao chuckled to himself. "But when he hears that Miss Lore expects him to be present, he _can't_ say no. He's in this with me."

"A-and me?" Alfred looked confused.

"Heh, sure," Yao nodded. "You're still the lead singer, got it?"

"That's what I intended," Alfred shrugged.

"Wait, wait, wait," Francis shook his head. "You can't just sign Ivan up to do something he doesn't want to do. It's not right. Why, at the moment he's up in the medical centre because he didn't feel well."

"That's karma for you," Yao clearly didn't care as he and Alfred studied the timetable.

Just then, the door opened and Ivan walked in, followed by Mr Saunders. He seated himself beside Arthur. No one said a word about being ill or the medical centre.

"Alright, we've actually got someone to come in and talk to you about relationships and other crap like that," Mr Saunders yawned. "I'll be leaving the room, for legal concerns. Fine by me – I get to drink coffee and eat biscuits in the staff room because of this."

The "someone" actually turned out to be the school counsellor, Mrs Kelly. She was a tiny woman with blonde, curly hair and huge glasses that almost took up her entire face. Her eyes always looked extremely wide and staring because of the spectacles, but Francis had heard she was a very nice woman, especially when a lot of his year were going through a lot of stress moving between their Year Eleven and Twelve years.

"Today, I'll be talking to you about relationships," she explained as Mr Saunders fled from the room. "This concerns both heterosexual and homosexual partners, confidence around others, the ability to embrace , bisexuality, celibacy and asexuality, as well as sexual relations with other individuals."

There were plenty of glances sent around the class.

"As you'll soon be leaving school, you need to consider that you'll have relationships with men, women, perhaps _both_. Therefore, I would first like to ask you, out of your own confidence, to raise your hand if you've already had sexual relations with another person. It's not compulsory to raise your hand, but if you feel confident to do so, then feel free to raise your hand. Your courage will be duly noted, as this is very personal information."

Francis raised his hand and noticed Heracles did the same. The two nodded to one another smugly, as the class assessed who had thrown their innocence and naivety away.

"Thank you," Mrs Kelly smiled, genuinely appreciative of their cooperation. "It's important to know that you can always talk about sex to one another. If Francis and Heracles are comfortable to speak with people about sexual relations, then any student can ask them about it. Having confidence around one another is another important thing that will help you with your general social relationships once you've progressed from education, or even _during_ your academic lives."

Francis smiled to himself. He wondered what consequence being arrogant about his sex life would bring. He glanced around and saw the other four looking at him disbelief. Francis smirked at them, and then turned his attention to Mrs Kelly once more as she continued telling them about sexual relationships.

* * *

 **A/N:** _I absolutely hate PSHCE - I don't even know what it stands for, and a lot of the time, it was boring and irrelevant! Ah well, just another one of those things that schools tend to do, and Francis has fully embraced it! Feel free to review - I honestly love hearing the opinions of my readers and I love replying to everyone who leaves a comment! Thank you for reading Gakutalia!_

Francis Bonnefoy: _France_  
Arthur Kirkland: _England_  
Ivan Braginsky: _Russia_  
Alfred Jones: _America_  
Yao Wang: _China_  
Kiku Honda: _Japan_  
Feliciano Vargas: _Italy_  
Ludwig Beilschmidt: _Germany_  
Natalya Braginsky: _Belarus_  
Feliks Lukasiewics: _Poland_  
Roderich Edelstein: _Austria_  
Heracles Karpusi: _Greece_


	8. Chapter 7

**A/N:** _Wow, so everyone who's stuck with Gakutalia so far will be glad to know this is the last chapter of introducing our eight main characters! I proudly present Italy (or Feliciano's) chapter. "Wait a second," I may hear a few curious readers ask. "The previous chapter was posted only a couple of days ago - why is she posting another one?"  
_

 _Well, you see, Gaku-fans, my sister's going to university today, which therefore makes this a special occasion, and as a request, she asked me to post another chapter of Gakutalia! I won't see her for a few months now, so this is a treat for both my sister, but also to all of you who enjoy this fic!_

 _Without further ado, here is the next chapter!  
( **As a little warning, this isn't a completely happy chapter and does bring some elements of domestic violence in - something that will occur throughout. If any of the events related in this chapter upset you for various reasons, I would like to formally apologise in advance as I in no way wish to emotionally harm anyone who reads this fic. Thank you.** )_

* * *

 **F.V.**

Fel had been avidly listening throughout Mrs Kelly's talk, and it was their final lesson of the day, English, that he chose to plonk himself down in the seat beside Francis before Arthur could.

"Hey, that's my seat!" Arthur glowered.

"Hang on a sec, I gotta talk to Francis for a bit," Fel chuckled and turned his attention away from the other boy. "I gotta ask… what's it like?"

"I suppose you mean sex?" Francis wore a smug and all-knowing expression on his face. "I'll also make the assumption that you've never had sex before."

"No, I'm a bit of a virgin," Fel laughed nervously. "Although I've talked to girls before! I just… want to know…"

"Well," Francis propped his elbow on the table and looked in wonder. "Love plays an important role. You can't just throw yourself into anyone's bed. It also depends on the person you're with."

"The person I'm with?" Fel looked at him in awe.

Francis seemed to take that as consolation to continue. "A woman must be cared for before you do anything – there must be a certain amount of intimacy before either of you jump straight to the expected things. A woman likes a man who considers her. She may not want to jump straight into things and, actually, that is the case for many women."

"I bet you've only slept with one girl," Arthur muttered scornfully and seated himself on a desk behind – although he was listening.

"The first time you ever become sexually involved with a woman, she will want you to be gentle," Francis explained, ignoring the English student completely. "Your first sexual encounter will tell you whether she prefers submission or dominance, and it will also tell her what you prefer. Any other encounters with her will tell you whether she genuinely likes a gentle man in bed, or that she will want something a little more… invigorating."

"Invigorating…" Fel repeated, nodding as he absorbed every word Francis said.

Francis chuckled. "You don't want to be too rough. You don't want to hurt-"

"Please, just end this conversation," Arthur looked embarrassed. "What if people hear you?"

"Do you not like hearing about sex, Arthur?" Francis smirked and turned in his chair to speak with his friend. "Does the idea of sex frighten you?"

"I-I wouldn't know," Arthur's face turned red. "I've never… experienced that before."

"You should've seen Kiku during that whole talk," Fel joined them. "He hates physical contact of any kind, so when she was talking about men and women and sex he was just fidgeting around and looking extremely uncomfortable."

"Really?" Francis looked surprised.

Fel nodded. "Whereas my big brother Lovino told me that he'd done it with all the girls in his class by the time Year Twelve ended."

"Is that why you're so interested…" Francis laughed. "Are you sure you're brother wasn't winding you up?"

"Oh, no, he was being sincere," Fel smiled. "Or at least I think he was."

"So, you're _not_ one hundred per cent sure?" Arthur rolled his eyes. "I bet he hasn't. I bet he's pulling your leg and you've just believed him like that."

Fel thought for a moment and then shrugged.

He stood just as someone walked into the classroom. Fel, frozen to the spot, listened to the _clack clack_ of incredibly high heels on the ground. Those heels must've been at least four inches; they were a chic pair of stilettos, entirely black, and belonged to someone with thin, smooth looking long legs. The woman, for those legs and stilettos belonged most definitely to a woman, was wearing a black pencil skirt that only slightly highlighted the curve of her hips. A pale pink shirt was worn, and on it delicate white flowers with small tendrils of green as their vines intertwined amongst one another. She had gone to the effort to carefully tuck her shirt into her pencil skirt, and it wasn't creased or ruffled or bunched around her waist in any way – it was straight. The top two buttons weren't quite done up, and a silvery necklace gleamed at her throat and drew attention to places Fel liked very much indeed. She wore a black blazer over the shirt, ironed to perfection and not hanging off her body, but instead fitting itself to her curved, womanly shape. She had lovely blonde hair, straightened and clean, that went down just past her shoulders. Her lips were a slightly dark pink, not too red, and not too pink – a rose colour. She had a nice colour to her cheeks; enough to give her a glowing, healthy appearance. Her eyes were a bright, clear blue, and her eyebrows dark and plucked until they weren't a millimetre out of place. She looked like an angel that had fallen from the sky. Her skin was perfect. She was a _woman_ , not a _girl_ , and Fel reckoned she couldn't have been any older than her mid-twenties. He would guess she was just out of university.

Carefully, she placed her folders on her table and then glanced pristinely around the class. It made sense that everyone was so quiet, in Fel's opinion, because this woman had just taken on a male dominated class. This woman also happened to be the most beautiful woman Fel had ever seen.

"Is something wrong?" she asked him.

"No, Ma'am," he sighed, dreamily. "Absolutely nothing."

Her lips curved upwards ever so slightly, and for such a brief moment that Fel was sure he imagined her smile.

"I have Mr Vurkel's seating plan here with me," she explained sweetly. "But I think I want to put you in register order for now, just so that I can get to know your names. I know you probably won't like me doing this, but it's just for this term, I promise!"

 _Cute and sexy_ , Fel thought, as she assessed the register.

"OK, so at these two desks just in front of my computer, we'll have Sadik Adnan and Ludwig Beilschmidt," she pointed.

Fel watched in jealousy as Ludwig took his bag and moved to the front, putting his bag on the desk in front of hers. He was in the perfect spot for those that wanted to be seen by their teachers. Sadik was hidden behind the computer, whereas Ludwig was not.

"Eduard von Bock and Lukas Bondevik here," she tapped the next two tables. "Francis Bonnefoy and Ivan Braginsky near the door, here."

She paused in thought, and then walked across the class once more, to the tables behind Sadik and Ludwig.

"Um… Lee…"

"It's Li Xiao, Miss, but people call me Leon," Fel watched as Leon stood from his previous seat.

"Ah, OK, I'll make a note of that," she pulled out a pink pen and seemed to jot that down on her register, whilst Leon received daggers from the rest of the class. "Leon, you'll sit next to… Roderich Edelstein."

Leon nodded and walked to his given seat, whilst everyone continued to watch him like he'd committed a great sin.

 _Jealousy really does change a man,_ Fel thought, as he too gave Leon a harsh stare.

"Elizabeta Héde… Hédeváry and Kiku Honda behind Eduard and Lukas," she continued. "Then we'll have Alfred Jones and Matthew Jones behind Francis and Ivan. Oh, wait – you two are twins – that's so cute – but I'll put you apart as an ice breaker thing so… swap Matthew with… Arthur Kirkland."

Fel watched Arthur's face darken slightly before he stood and resigned himself to sitting next to the loudest person in their class.

"OK, behind Leon, Matthew Jones and Heracles Karpusi," the new teacher pointed. "Beside them, Matthias Kohler and Toris Laurinaitis. Then Feliks Lukasiewicz and Carlos Machado. Oh, but Carlos isn't here so we'll put you next to Berwald Oxenstierna instead. Emma Peeters and Tino Vainamoinen will be behind Matthew and Heracles. Beside them, we'll have Feliciano Vargas and Yao Wang."

Fel turned his head and caught Yao's gaze. Awkwardly, he swiftly turned his head away. Not only would he be in close connection with Yao in Art, what with the other boy working with Kiku, but now he himself had to sit beside him in English. Fel desperately hoped Yao only had something against Kiku, but could only guess that, since they were sitting near Arthur, Yao's friend, strength in numbers would consume him. He met Kiku's gaze and raised both eyebrows. His friend remained as expressionless as possible, and looked down at the table.

"And finally, we have Basch Zwingli," her expression softened into sympathy. "Poor you; you're on your own, until Carlos comes back! Maybe when I have marking to do during class I can seat myself with you, for now."

She turned to the board, completely oblivious to enraged stares that were cast towards Basch, alone at the back of the class.

"I shall now introduce myself as Miss Morbrey," she smiled. "I'll be your teacher for the rest of this year."

Once seating was arranged, they lapsed straight into teaching. Fel, for once, found himself listening to every word she said, as well as taking down notes. Sitting beside Yao wasn't too bad either – they just didn't talk. Arthur contributed greatly to the class, much to the agitation of everyone else.

When Ludwig turned, he met Fel's gaze.

Fel mouthed: _I would definitely do her._

Ludwig nodded and turned round once more. He settled himself in his chair and glanced to the side to see Yao staring at him, aghast and almost embarrassed.

"What, you wouldn't if given the opportunity?" Fel looked at him, amazed.

Yao's eyes slid to the front of the class and then he shrugged with an appreciative nod. "Fair point."

Their English class became listening for the sake and hopes of being noticed as a good student. Her top three seemed to be Leon, Basch and Arthur, all in that order, although Fel believed Arthur would rise his way to the top considering he was answering enough questions and coming up with enough ideas to actually _be_ their teacher.

When class ended, Miss Morbrey breezed out of the classroom. Once she was gone, everyone started conversing. The boys wanted to talk about Miss Morbrey because they liked her, and the girls wanted to talk about Miss Morbrey because they didn't, and that they thought the boys would have an unfair advantage due to their sucking up.

Fel met with Ludwig and Kiku outside the classroom.

"Now that made my day," Fel sighed. "I'm _glad_ Mr Vurkel's gone. I really like Miss Morbrey."

"She's also a good teacher," Kiku added.

"Let's remember that she is our teacher," Ludwig said. "She's out of our league."

"I bet Lovino's already met and slept with her," Fel sighed as Kiku rifled through his locker in preparation for the next day. "She must be around the same age as him."

"Oh, come off it," Ludwig rolled his eyes. "What are the chances of her having come to this school? We would have remembered her."

"Hmm, good point…" Fel shrugged.

"I'll see you guys later," Kiku frowned. "I have a detention from that sandwich earlier."

"Oh, that sucks," Ludwig replied. "We'll see you, then."

They separated from Kiku's locker. Kiku headed towards the dreaded detention room, whereas Fel and Ludwig went the opposite way, their direction pointed towards the school car park.

They passed through the gates amongst the general flow of other students on their way home. The car park was straight ahead, but a path to the left was the place students who took the bus or some other method of public transport went. Both Fel and Ludwig turned left.

Ludwig stopped before the bus and glanced back. Some years back, when they were younger, it would be Ludwig and his older brother, Gilbert, getting onto the bus, whereas Fel and his older brother, Lovino, would move on and head towards the train station that wasn't too far. Now, it was just him and Ludwig, and had been for about three years now.

"I'll see you," Ludwig replied.

Fel nodded, and started the long walk down the small hill to the train station. Usually, Kiku would be taking the train with him, but that was not the case today. He was alone.

Fel frowned as soon as he was out of sight and at the train station. He passed his travel card through the system, and started the lonely return to home.

 **A.J.**

"He wouldn't stop telling me about it," Matthew was telling Alfred as they awaited their mum's car.

"What was that, sorry?" he glanced at his brother, having barely been listening.

"Mm, nothing," Matthew glanced away. "Mum's here."

Alfred was already nodding and crossing the road. He casually slid into the front seat.

"How was your day, you two?" she asked them.

"It was fine," Matthew replied.

Alfred reflected on his day and then smiled to himself. "Mine was great."

"That's good," she looked at her sons lovingly, and then started the car and drove off.

 **L.B.**

Ludwig entered the house using his keys and walked into the kitchen to see Gilbert on the computer.

"Where's Dad?" he asked.

"At work," his older brother replied.

Ludwig nodded, turned and left to do his homework, as well as feel jealous that Gilbert didn't start university until October.

 **I.B.**

"No excuse," his father roared down the phone. "What am I? A taxi service, Ivan? I don't think so. You can walk home."

"Yes, father," he replied, and frowned as his father hung up before he'd barely finished speaking.

He held the phone at arm's length, hiding in a toilet cubicle, and then ran his hands through his hair, letting out a long, pained sigh.

 **A.K.**

"I'm sorry, Peter, but you'll just have to go alone," Arthur explained to his little brother in the car park, his detention weighing heavy on his shoulders. "I would've asked Alfred to give you a lift, but his car's broken and I don't really want to be asking favours from his mother."

"What if I get lost?" Peter looked sad. "I usually just follow you, so I don't pay my fullest attentions to my surroundings."

"You'll be fine," Arthur patted him awkwardly on the shoulder. "As you walk, you'll see places that you'll realise are more familiar than you thought."

"OK," the younger boy said forlornly. "I'll see you later."

Arthur nodded, and watched his brother turn and start walking away. He knew he'd be fine; he was sure of it.

 **K.H.**

Kiku wandered into the detention room and saw he wasn't alone. Feliks Lukasiewicz was already there, bored on his phone. He raised his head and looked surprised to see Kiku standing in the doorway.

"This is the detention room," he said. "If you're looking for Miss Lore, she's not here at the moment."

"Nope," Kiku seated himself within talking distance of Feliks, but not next to one another, since you weren't allowed to sit next to anyone in detention. "I'm here to stay."

Feliks looked at him with new admiration.

 **Y.W.**

As soon as Yao entered the house, he was met with his mother, who was wearing an apron and carrying a spoon.

"Get your homework finished, Yao, and then come down and help me with the kitchen," she ordered.

"Sure," he nodded and hurried to his room.

He pulled out all his work, but felt suddenly hopeless as soon as he settled down to work.

 _I wonder if my routine will change at university_ , he thought, and glanced outside the window at the wide expanse of world that waited for his arrival.

 **F.B.**

Francis's chauffeur opened the door for him and he stepped out of the door and preceded to walk up the stairs leading to the entrance doors. The door was opened by Esmond, his butler, for him.

"Bonjour!" he called into the house and watched as his mother leaned out of the lounge door, wearing her red silk dressing gown and looking immensely pleased to see him.

"Francis!" she beamed, rushing over and pulling him into her arms as well as kissing both his cheeks. "I've missed you so much."

"I was only at school, Mother," he said sympathetically.

"Oh," she looked dazed. "Oh, I forgot…"

Francis sighed a little, and returned his mother's hug.

 **F.V.**

The house was dark as Fel pushed opened the door and stood in the doorway.

"I'm home," he announced, and was met with darkness and silence.

Fel took two steps into the room and closed the door behind him. He turned on the lights.

"I'm home!" he repeated, a little louder.

"Shut the fuck up – I heard you the first time!" his father yelled from the other room. "Turn the bloody lights off; I'm trying to sleep."

"Yes, Papa," Fel cast his eyes to the ground and switched the lights off.

* * *

 **A/N:** _Well, I hope you liked Gakutalia! This chapter took a little longer to write, but it gives you a little insight as to how our favourite characters have to deal with their home lives!_

 _If you'd like to leave a review, please do! I absolutely adore what readers have to say about Gakutalia. Here's some food for thought: at school, I'm the most like Ludwig; I have a tendency to work hard and remain unnoticed, although I'd probably say I have a better sense of humour in comparison. Who would you guys say you're the most like?_

 _Thank you very much for reading Gakutalia and the next chapter should come along in its usual time (hopefully)! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, because we've finally introduced everyone's daily school life! Thank you!_

Alfred Jones: _America_  
Arthur Kirkland: _England_  
Francis Bonnefoy: _France_  
Ivan Braginsky: _Russia_  
Yao Wang: _China_  
Kiku Honda: _Japan_  
Feliciano Vargas: _Italy_  
Ludwig Beilschmidt: _Germany_  
Sadik Adnan: _Turkey_  
Li Xiao/Leon Chun: _Hong Kong_  
Roderich Edelstein: _Austria_  
Eduard von Bock: _Estonia_  
Lukas Bondevik: _Norway_  
Elizabeta Hédeváry: _Hungary_  
Matthew Jones: _Canada_  
Heracles Karpusi: _Greece_  
Matthias Kohler: _Denmark_  
Toris Laurinaitis: _Lithuania_  
Feliks Lukasiewicz: _Poland_  
Carlos Machado: _Cuba_  
Berwald Oxenstierna: _Sweden_  
Emma Peeters: _Belgium_  
Tino Vainamoinen: _Finland_  
Basch Zwingli: _Switzerland_  
Peter Kirkland: _Sealand_  
Gilbert Beilschmidt: _Prussia_  
Lovino Vargas: _Romano_

 _Wow, that's pretty much all the characters! Thank you for reading!_


	9. Chapter 8

**A/N:** _Oh, wow! I'm a terrible person, because I totally didn't post this yesterday, when I really could've! I'll apologise, because it was a busy day. It was my grandma's birthday yesterday, so she's eighty-three now! She doesn't know what Hetalia or anime is, but I'll still dedicate this chapter to her! Thank you for being patient and I'm very sorry for the late post!_

* * *

 **A.J.**

Alfred opened his eyes and squinted as the light streamed in through the window. He sat up in bed and checked the time. It read 7:45.

"Oh, crap," he leapt out of bed and threw his uniform on.

Desperately, he tried to smooth his hair down in front of the mirror, but there was always that one strand that was always standing up on edge. He gave up and raced downstairs to see his family crowded around a table laid with pancakes.

"Oh, there you are, Alfred," his father said. "Tried calling for you but you wouldn't respond."

"Slept in," Alfred dove at the table and helped himself to several pancakes, as Matthew was eating as well. "Matt, why didn't you wake me?"

Matthew opened a bottle of maple syrup and started pouring it on his pancakes. "I tried, but you punched me in the stomach. I may have been winded, but I'm not entirely sure; either way, it really hurt."

Alfred watched as the syrup spread across Matthew's pancakes like a lake.

"After that, I tried playing loud music in your room, because I didn't want to risk touching you again," Matthew continued, still pouring. "However, you slept right through it. The sheer volumes were quite amazing, and if I'd turned it up any higher, my ear drums would've burst."

Alfred raised an eyebrow as one pancake was completely enveloped in maple syrup. His brother kept pouring.

"My third attempt was my last, I can assure you," Matthew insisted as he drowned his food. "I got a cup of ice and put it down the back of your shirt. You kind of wriggled around a bit, and I really thought I'd managed to wake you up, but then you just accepted your new situation and slept through that as well. Afterwards, I just kind of gave up and decided to let you wake up when you did."

Alfred's eyes bugged out as the second pancake began to float from the amount of syrup being used. He began to wonder how the plate didn't flood, when he realised his brother wasn't using a plate, but a bowl instead.

"I'm surprised you didn't set yourself an alarm," Matthew was saying. "But I suppose it makes sense, since you'd probably just sleep through it anyway. I'd suggest-"

"Um, Matt?" Alfred frowned. "Your syrup ran out…"

Matthew glanced at the empty bottle and frowned. "Oh, maple! I suppose this will have to do…"

Alfred's jaw dropped as Matthew started tucking into the maple syrup with a side dish of pancakes. He grabbed the golden syrup and streamed a slight drizzle in the middle of one pancake, before spreading it and eating them one at a time, all the while watching in amazement at his brother's high maple intake.

 **K.H.**

Kiku was strapping his bike helmet on when his dog rushed up and leapt into the little basket in his bike. Sighing, he lifted the little thing from its carrier and set it back down on the ground.

"No, Pochi! You can't come to school with me," he smiled, getting on the bike and practicing the brakes and the bell. Both worked. "Go back inside with mother and father."

Pochi barked, but then turned and raced inside the house, where his mother closed the door. Kiku turned his head away and set off on his bike, ready for the next week.

 **F.V.**

Fel slung his rucksack over his shoulder and was preparing to leave for school just as his brother ran out of the house, looking a mess.

"Oi, Fel, I needed to ask you something!" he huffed and came to a stop before his brother.

"What is it, Lovino?" Fel asked, hoping he wouldn't miss his train.

"I'm holding a party in December," Lovino explained. "I need you to organise it."

"O-organise it?" Fel blinked.

"Yeah, I'll tell you the details when you get back," Lovino said. "Now, get to school and study like I never did, you little sod."

"Aye, aye, Captain," Fel saluted.

He missed his train.

 **I.B.**

"Your hair's not brushed properly," Kat started touching his head. "Your uniform's not quite on straight. You look like a little boy, still, even though you're at the top of your year and you have grown into a big boy now!"

"Kat, get off of me!" he pushed her hands away impatiently. "You're embarrassing me, da?"

His older sister laughed and then her expression softened to endearment.

"You're a sweet little boy, Ivan," she smiled. "Don't lose that."

Ivan didn't know what she meant by that, but he lifted a hand and smiled an awkward goodbye as he and Natalya headed towards school. He made sure to promptly change his course from hers as soon as he could.

"I'll see you at the end of the day, big brother!" she called after him.

"Yeah," he replied, barely glancing at her.

 _You shouldn't be so rude, Ivan, she's your little sister,_ the voice in his head scolded as he reached the door… and came to face with Toris.

"Toris," he said.

"Ivan," Toris replied, and then moved past.

 _When did I become so isolated?_ he wondered, watching Toris's retreating figure.

 **Y.W.**

Yao played a wrong chord and Roderich blocked his ears in frustration.

"That sounded terrible," Roderich complained. "How do you ever expect yourself to get good if you just can't play?"

"That's not constructive criticism," Yao snapped back.

Roderich slammed a fist on the piano keys. Even though it seemed unplanned, the striking of his fist and the way the notes bellowed sounded like a noise of disdain expressed through music. It was a form of art being waved right under Yao's nose, and he was struggling to achieve it.

"You don't need construction," Roderich scowled. "How do you expect to improve if you desire little compliments along the way? Greatness comes with the sacrifice of your narcissism. Greatness comes with giving up your time. Greatness is greatness, and cannot be learned in one day or by not watching your hands properly."

"I'm sorry!" Yao gritted his teeth and looked back at the piano.

"How are you doing, Alfred?" Roderich asked, turning towards the other boy as he strummed lightly on the guitar. "I'm not exactly a professional on that, however, Miss Lore will be here soon and she can help you. It sounds decent en-"

A wrong note was played. Roderich brought a palm to his forehead and cried out in disgusted anguish. Alfred looked at him in terror.

"How can you expect to become great if you sit there pretending to be great?" he demanded, as Alfred shrunk away. "Are you the lead singer and guitarist, or lead failure, because at this current moment, I don't see a difference. Oh, and whilst we're on the subject of failure, Ivan failed to show his face. What's that all about?"

"Oh, crap, I completely forgot to tell him I was doing this to him," Yao paused in horror.

It was true. Although he had frequently seen Ivan throughout the week, he'd wanted to announce it in a cool way. However, as time had passed, it has slipped his mind to tell Ivan, and he had soon begun to believe Ivan already knew.

"Oh, wow, so you're third member doesn't even know he's a member?" Roderich did not look impressed. "I suppose your awful management habits are the result of this?"

"My management isn't bad," Yao pursed his lips. "They're just out of touch, that's all."

"Out of touch is one word for it," Roderich said. "Poor is another. Awful is correct."

The door opened and Miss Lore strode into the room, looking like Death itself, with Ivan trailing after her, a dark expression on his face, which was instantly directed towards Yao as he entered the room.

"Here he is; the deserter," Miss Lore announced. "Deserting means detention, doesn't it, Ivan?"

"Yes, Miss Lore," Ivan said, as all three other students in the room fell silent at her anger. "It does."

He walked across the room and picked up the drumsticks with a sinister expression on his face. He walked up to the piano and peered over Yao's shoulder.

"What'cha up to, Yao?" he asked casually, and leant one of the drumsticks on Yao's back.

"Learning my C major scale chords," he said, wincing as Ivan dug the end of the drumstick into his back.

"Oh, looks fun," he leant closer. "What am I doing here?"

The last part was said in a whisper.

"I signed you up for Alfred's band," Yao grimaced, as Miss Lore and Roderich spoke to Alfred about his guitar playing.

"Why the Hell did you do that?" Ivan hissed and glared at him.

"I didn't want to be alone," Yao pleaded. "Come on, take pity on me. I didn't want to have to suffer weeks of being alone and tormented by his stupidity."

"Take pity on _me_ ," Ivan replied. "Why didn't you tell me you'd done this?"

"I meant to, but forgot," Yao replied.

"Right, fine, you can live for now," Ivan sighed, and lifted the dreaded drumstick from Yao's back. "Watch this."

He sat down at the drums, flipped the drumsticks and started hammering down on the cymbals and drums like a professional. Alfred's jaw dropped and even Roderich looked vaguely impressed.

"Where'd you learn to do that, dude?" Alfred beamed. "That's amazing!"

Ivan smiled, absorbing the compliment like a sponge. "My sister. Kat was once part of this heavy metal garage band thing when she was a little younger than us. You won't know about it, because she had to keep it quiet from our father. She was a pro..."

"That's amazing," Alfred repeated.

Yao glowered from his position and started tinkling away at random keys in order to bring attention away from Ivan. It worked.

"That sound offends me almost as much as the colours red and green together do," Roderich complained loudly. "Just stop, all of you. I'll work out a systematic method of getting you to actually have talent…"

 **A.K.**

Feliks rushed into the library where Arthur was working on his English coursework. He sat beside him and looked at him excitedly. Arthur paused and glanced at him with a frown.

"Do you need something?" he asked.

"Yes, like, yes, I do," Feliks said. "I found something on the Daily Mail that really shocked me and I was, like, totally speechless. Here, check this out."

You weren't allowed to have phones on in the library, and Feliks wasn't exactly speaking quietly. Fortunately, it was lunchtime, and Arthur was in a good mood, since his coursework was going well. Therefore, he felt more inclined to listen to what Feliks had to say.

"Go on," he whispered. "What is it?"

Feliks showed him a page on the Daily Mail concerning some kind of fashion article. There was a woman walking down the street. It didn't concern Arthur in the slightest, but what had he really expected from Feliks.

"What about it?" he asked.

"Look, in the background," Feliks swiped his fingers across the screen and enlarged the picture. "Guess who!"

Arthur squinted at the screen and then gawked. "I don't believe it!"

"I know right!" Feliks grinned. "I was so totally shocked when I saw it, but it's undeniably him."

"That's Mr Vurkel," Arthur stated. "Where was this taken and when?"

Feliks assessed the article carefully. "This was in south London, and it was approximately taken three days ago."

"This is my chance," Arthur stood.

"You're going after Mr Vurkel?" Feliks stared.

"I have to," Arthur said.

"Pretty badass, leaving during school…" Feliks commented.

"Oh, yes, you're completely right," Arthur seated himself. "I suppose this'll have to wait until the weekend."

 **F.B.**

Francis stood in the doorway, watching Alfred and the other two play. He had seen the grilling of Miss Lore about Ivan turning up late, and continued to bear witness to Yao's flustered playing and Alfred's lack of attention. There was something so wrong about the band that Francis had to almost feel sorry for them. The only thing they had going for them was that they had twelve weeks before the Talent Show. That was a good three months or so.

Roderich suddenly caught sight of him leaning in the doorway and waved a hand for the three developing musicians to stop, which none did.

"Stop playing when I tell you to!" he yelled. "I can tell why none of you would ever be in the orchestra."

"Hey, Francis," Alfred lowered his guitar. "What are you doing here?"

Francis smiled and held up the poster of the Talent Show. "I've had something on my mind for the past few days or so, and after seeing your poor performance today, I've decided to become your manager."

"Our… manager?" Yao looked displeased.

"Precisely," Francis blew a kiss to them all. "I'll organise where you need to be, when you need to be, practice sessions and all other things that a band requires. It always takes someone outside the music to do the maintenance, I always think. So, what do you say?"

"Sounds good to me," Alfred shrugged.

"What?" Yao frowned. "Really?"

"Hey, it's Francis," Alfred smiled. "He's a pretty neat guy when it comes to organisation."

Francis smiled. "It's settled, then. I will be your manager. But first, we must decide on a name for the band."

"I had something on my mind," Alfred admitted.

"Go on, let's hear it," Francis said.

Alfred swallowed and then: "Freedom and the Coms."

* * *

 **A/N:** _This will sound sad, but I absolutely love writing anything Roderich says. I hope you guys enjoyed reading this just as much as I did writing it! As it's the end of the introductory chapters, I don't think there's any need for me to clarify the main eight in the character list anymore, so it'll just be minor characters who get a mention from now on!_

 _I would like to say a quick thanks to the Daily Mail, just because, really! They provide mass entertainment to a lot of people I know, as well as Feliks!_

 _On another note, **please do review**! I love hearing people's opinions, because I adore reading through them and replying! I have no life, people! I sit here and laugh at my own jokes! I have no commitments, or hobbies, which means it really brightens my day to see someone left a little comment! Please, please, _**_please_** _leave a little review! I love hearing from the people who read this!_

Matthew Jones: _Canada_  
Lovino Vargas: _Romano_  
Katyusha Braginsky: _Ukraine_  
Natalya Braginsky: _Belarus_  
Toris Laurinaitis: _Lithuania_  
Roderich Edelstein: _Austria_  
Feliks Lukasiewicz: _Poland_


	10. Chapter 9

**A/N:** _OK, so, first of all, I wanted to profoundly apologise in advance for this chapter being so awfully late! I'd like to say I have an excuse, but I've had all day to post it, and really wasn't getting around to doing it! Shame is on me! I felt really bad... Anyway, I'm posting it now, even though it officially became Sunday about 10 minutes ago... Gakutalia and are definitely worth it!_

 _Here's the next chapter of Gakutalia (at last) and I hope you enjoy it!_

* * *

 **K.H.**

Although he would rather be drawing manga, Kiku was concerned that he still hadn't completed his Art homework. He sat in his own club, filling out the double page Mrs Denver had set them on different angles of the body. Like any profile of a manga character, Kiku had chosen to go with a headshot from three different angles – direct, profile and looking upwards. He then drew two figures – one facing three quarters, and the other sideways. That was how he would construct his double page. He was fussy, though, and rather enjoyed spending a lot of time doing the same thing, ensuring each inch of his drawing was perfect.

He was sure that Yao wouldn't even have the drawing done by the end of the day. He was sure he was probably wasting his time by even hoping his partner would be able to produce a decent depiction of him in time for their next lesson.

"Excuse me, Kiku, but I'm having trouble drawing the arm in proportion to the body and legs," a younger girl asked.

Kiku raised his head from his project and set his book aside. Along the way, he grabbed a sheet of paper and sat beside the girl, holding his prized ink pen in his hand.

"What are you having difficulty with?" he asked, and carefully assessed her work.

He could see that the curve at the elbow wasn't quite right. Once she had drawn the elbow, the arm length was a little too short. Kiku wondered for a moment, and then picked up a pencil sitting on the desk beside her.

"May I use this?" he asked, and she nodded. "Try drawing a skeleton first."

"A skeleton?" she looked confused.

Kiku nodded. "I mean a frame. A frame really helps proportion your drawings. Before doing anything on the upper layers, you must first make sure the skeleton is complete."

He drew a circle which progressed towards joints and shapes. He connected the joints and the body, keeping the pencil at a trace and as light as possible. He completed the skeleton and pushed the paper towards the girl. Her eyes widened.

"Try drawing over that one and see if your proportion improves," he said. "If you like the result, you can continue using the skeleton method. I would highly recommend it."

"Thanks," she held the paper in front of her, and her friend beside her kept glancing over.

"Oh, not a problem," Kiku stood and sat in his seat once more, assessing his Art project with a little less enthusiasm when compared to helping the girl.

There was one thing he felt he was missing. It was too quiet. He raised his head and looked for Yong Soo, only to find him having seated himself beside the girl, assessing the skeleton. Yong Soo caught him looking and stood abruptly, a scowl on his face.

"I could do something way better," he folded his arms.

"OK," Kiku shrugged. "Just as well, since you are attending a manga club."

Yong Soo rolled his eyes and sat down. Kiku watched him start ploughing away on a sheet of paper. He lowered his eyes to his own work once more and added an extra two strokes to the shoulder with his pencil. It wasn't so hard, especially since he related to the skeleton method in his own artwork in class, only slightly different, to make the posture more realistic and less cartoon.

The bell rang before he knew it.

"OK, I'll see you all next week," he said, handing out lunch cards to each student.

He was closing his Art book and packing his bags when he heard a nervous shuffling approaching. Kiku raised his head to see the girl from before standing awkwardly before him.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, troubled.

"I just saw some of your artwork in that book," she shifted from foot to foot. "And I just wanted to say – you're really good!"

Kiku blinked and watched her swallow and turn her head away from him. He smiled and took his book from his bag once more, opening it to the page where the proportion angles were sketched.

"If you want, I can photocopy this when I've finished and give it to you to learn from?" he offered.

Her face reddened a little. "That would be very nice."

"I'll have that done, then," he closed his book once more and fit it in his bag. "I should be able to give it to you next week. Just e-mail me a reminder and I should remember."

She nodded, as Kiku held the door open for her and the pair of them walked out in preparation for registration.

 **L.B.**

He was sitting quietly in Art class, working on his project, which had progressed much beyond what he'd done last week. Even he had to admit it was rather poor performance on his behalf that he'd barely gotten anything done. What he had accomplished was finishing his drawing of Fel, which had gone into his book as soon as he'd completed it. That was one thing Mrs Denver enjoyed about his sketchbook. Ludwig couldn't stand mess, so ensured everything was perfectly in place. Everything was uniform and, according to his Art teacher, presentation "says a lot about one's personality". If that was the case, he would assume his personality was neat, punctual, organised and disciplined, considering his book was a masterpiece of clean in itself.

Emma seemed unmotivated in work today. Whilst Mrs Denver was out of the class doing who knew what, she occupied herself with wandering around the classroom glancing over people's shoulders as she passed by. She stopped by Fel's shoulder and peered at his book.

"Hey, Emma," Fel yawned.

"Oh, nice, Fel," she pulled his book closer to take a look. "I wish I could draw like this, but I'm really hopeless."

"Join the club," Ludwig said.

She glanced at his drawings and chuckled. "Sorry, I don't mean to laugh. Mine's too terrible to be looked upon."

"I'm sure it can't be _that_ bad," Ludwig replied.

Emma leant a little closer to them all and lowered her voice. "Have you seen Alfred's? His drawings are worse than mine…"

Feliciano's eyes flicked to Yao, but it seemed he and Kiku were too endorsed with their work to be aware of the conversation happening nearby them. Emma dipped her head in acknowledgement and leant a little closer. Ludwig and Fel almost knocked their heads together trying to listen to her.

"All his drawings resemble him to some extent," she whispered. "Even the women. That's not right. How can you somehow draw a woman like yourself if you're a guy?"

"Maybe he has repressed desires?" Fel sniggered.

"What? To be a woman?" she grinned. "That would be interesting when we meet up for homecoming. We'll all be wondering where Alfred went, and then we'll realise that he became a woman and changed his name to Shirley or something."

Ludwig snorted and dipped his head just as Mrs Denver came into the room, a stack of papers balanced dangerously in her arms.

"Are you doing work, Emma?" she asked.

"I'm getting some tips from Fel," Emma said. "I think, sometimes, the best way to learn is to bounce ideas off one another and ask for artistic advice from those with natural talent."

"Ah, yes, of course," Mrs Denver looked slightly flustered. "Just… don't spend the entire lesson asking for artistic advice. Do get some practical work done."

"I'll make my explanation quick, then!" Fel saluted, and their teacher retired to her desk, although kept a slight eye on the three of them.

"Hey, did you guys hear about the Talent Show?" Emma whispered, avoiding Mrs Denver's watching eye.

"Vaguely," Ludwig replied. "Although it doesn't seem to have picked up, does it?"

"Not really," she admitted. "I assume, then, that neither of you have entered?"

Both Fel and Ludwig shook their heads.

Emma took that as an opportunity to continue speaking. "Did you hear they're actually really low on student staff? They haven't got anything planned. Lighting, staging, props, decoration. Nothing."

"That's bad," Fel gaped. "How come they haven't thought of preparations yet? These things take so much organisation considering they need to be prepared to fit the surroundings to the acts."

"That's what I thought," she admitted. "I suppose it hasn't been prioritised."

"Emma, I think you've taken enough artistic advice by now," Mrs Denver commented from her desk. "Please resume your seat and continue the practical work."

"Yes, Mrs Denver," Emma stood. "I don't know how this Talent Show will go, but if it doesn't work, then we might have the final day of school off. What do you guys think?"

"That'd be nice," Fel smiled.

"That'd be a miracle," Ludwig said. "If it's not a Talent Show, they'll have us in to do work. I hope they get their things together."

"If you put it like that, I'm almost tempted to get directing everything myself," Emma replied. "However, I'm useless at all that stuff – really not my thing."

"Emma," Mrs Denver warned.

"Yes, Ma'am," Emma pushed away from the table and returned to her seat.

Ludwig resumed writing a neat explanation in his sketchbook about what he was doing, whereas Fel continued to wildly spread his drawings across the page in a form that would probably achieve the Mrs Denver "very interesting, very abstract".

 **F.V.**

Fel sat at his canvas the second he got home and put a brush to the surface, slowly stroking a watered down layer across the entire frame. It was always comforting to get his creative juices flowing, especially when there was a lot that needed to be done, in his opinion.

He heard footsteps thundering upstairs and turned on his stool to see Lovino push open the door. His older brother wandered into the room and assessed what he was doing carefully.

"Oh, good, you're not doing any work," he said, pleased, and dropped down on Fel's bed. "That means we can start making some progress."

"Progress?" Fel glanced away from the canvas to his brother, who was wringing his wrists and wore an anxious expression on his face. "What's wrong, Lovino? Did you have a fight with Papa?"

"No; Papa's been at the pub since lunchtime," Lovino shrugged. "He won't be back until later. Remember what I told you just this morning?"

"Not to miss my train?" Fel frowned. "I missed my train, by the way. Mr Saunders didn't really care, though; he usually doesn't."

"That's not what I'm talking about, Fel," Lovino rolled his eyes. "I'm talking about the party."

"Oh, that!" Fel almost dropped his brush in realisation. "I completely forgot!"

"I can tell," Lovino folded his arms moodily. "Either way, I told you to organise it, but naturally, I want to cover some basic things with you."

"Alright," Fel set his brush aside. "Does it have a theme?"

"It's a house party," Lovino glanced at him. "Of course not."

"How would I know?" Fel frowned. "I thought it might have a slight Christmas theme, but I guess not."

"Do you think it should?" Lovino asked, suddenly worried.

Fel shook his head and collected a notebook from his desk. "Christmas is tacky – I'm glad you said it had no theme. However, you can still call it a Christmas party depending on what date you were thinking of holding it…"

"Second week into December," Lovino said.

"Alrighty," Fel noted that down. "I'd say preferably on a weekend, just so people are more likely to come. You could hold it on a Friday, but sometimes people are tired by then and can't be bothered to do anything."

"Weekend," Lovino said, and Fel jotted that down as well.

They heard the door open downstairs.

"Fel, make me a meal!" his father called from down below.

"OK, Pa-"

"Fel's busy at the moment, Papa," Lovino said impatiently. "Make yourself a snack."

Footsteps sounded harshly against the stairs and their father appeared in the doorway, a scowl on his face.

"You never doing anything useful, you piece of shit," he spat at Lovino. "Why don't you make the fucking food for once?"

"Here's a plan – you go take one of your famous naps on the bloody sofa and by the time you're awake it'll be dinner?" Lovino stood and glowered.

Mr Vargas shot forwards and grabbed the collar of Lovino's shirt in between clenched fists. Fel's older brother grasped his father's wrists and grimaced.

"Papa, Papa, stop," Fel jumped to his feet. "I can get you something to eat. I honestly don't mind."

Their father grunted and left the room, staggering down the stairs. Fel glanced at Lovino, who was rubbing his neck and glaring at the doorway.

"Lovino, are you OK?" he said quietly, and put a hand on his brother's shoulder.

Lovino shrugged his hand away aggressively. "You really shouldn't give in to the fucker, Fel. You've always been so weak."

His brother stormed out of the room and he heard the front door slam after a moment's silence in the house. Sighing, Fel trudged downstairs to make his father his favourite cheese, basil and tomato ciabatta.

* * *

 **A/N:** _I really hope that was a chapter worth the extra couple day wait! Again, I'm so sorry for the late post, but I promise to be back on routine by next week. Thank you for bearing with me and I hope you've enjoyed this chapter! Until next time!_

Yong Soo Im: _Korea_  
Emma Peeters: _Belgium_  
Lovino Vargas: _Romano_


	11. Chapter 10

**A/N:** _Wow, so it's been a week already! I've been a bit bogged down with work, but I managed to do a load yesterday, which really got me back on track, and I honestly wanted to make sure this was out on the right time, because I've been a bit bad with the whole posting of chapters._

 _I'd just like to say a quick thanks to everyone who's read and stuck with Gakutalia so far! Wow - it's reached over **1,000 views** , which I'm seriously proud of! Thank you everyone for your support in this Fic and I promise, from now on, I'm going to desperately try and post it on time from now on, and I hope everyone continues to enjoy Gakutalia as much as I like writing it! Thank you!_

 _So! This is the 10th chapter of Gakutalia (not counting the Prologue), so I'm rather proud to have gotten this far! I'd just like to make a brief shout out to **WhiteWolf100101** , who has shown continual support for this fic by dropping a comment each week! It's honestly a pure joy to hear that people like reading what I write, and I'm seriously grateful for the reviews and support! _

_Without further ado, the next chapter of Gakutalia is here!_

* * *

 **L.B.**

Ludwig was early to school that day, and he'd happened to stumble upon a poster for the Talent Show. Just looking at how it was advertised gave him little hope for how it would turn out.

It looked like a tacky advertisement for sweets, with a lot of bright red and yellow, and bold black writing to prove a point that wasn't actually proved. It was like looking at a stage, with the spotlight shining down the middle and a chunk of writing at the centre, explaining audition times as well as the date of the actual event.

He couldn't believe set up hadn't begun. He'd kept updated with Emma and there had been no action put towards the staging. Ludwig thought that was one of the most important parts. If something went wrong with the organisation, then the event couldn't function properly. Nothing could work on weak foundations, he believed.

"Are you OK, younger Beilschmidt?" Mr Saunders asked as he passed by.

"Oh, yes, Sir," Ludwig frowned.

"You're not thinking of entering that, are you?" his teacher frowned. "I'd be obliged to support you as one of my students if you did. That's something older Beilschmidt would've done, and let's face it, you don't want to follow in his footsteps."

Mr Saunders gave him a knowing nod and walked on, leaving Ludwig to consider what he held clutched in his hands. Entering? No, he hadn't considered that for a moment. However, the idea of orchestrating the entire event and getting the background team together sounded strangely appealing to him. He decided that was something that needed further pondering.

 **K.H.**

He sat by a computer at break and logged in to check his e-mails. He saw he had received one by a certain Lucinda Reed. He clicked on it, out of curiosity, and saw it was a meek message from the girl in his manga club. He recalled that her name was, actually, familiar.

It was a message telling about photocopying the images of his Art book and sending them to her form room, which she'd also helpfully written in the e-mail. Kiku replied that he would get that sent to her.

He located his Art book from his locker (because he didn't have Art today, and didn't need it for homework, since Mrs Denvers hadn't set any) and opened it up at the figure sketches. Although he'd filled them in at this stage, they still would make suitable examples for her to have an idea about proportion.

Absently, Kiku carried his book to the photocopier. He joined the queue and waited patiently, keeping his face endorsed in his own space. The queue moved forwards, so Kiku did as well.

He raised his head and saw it was Yao in front of him. The other boy met his gaze, for he'd been looking at his work. Kiku snapped his book shut and they looked away from one another. They stood beside one another, waiting in the queue, Yao with a Maths book tucked under his arm, Kiku with his Art book held firmly to his chest.

The queue moved forwards. Neither said anything.

Finally, Yao reached the photocopier and wedged his book in between the scanner and the lid. There was a whirring, and a light flicked across. Kiku waited impatiently as the other boy closed the lid shut with a snap. Unfortunately for both, the photocopier didn't miraculously speed up.

"So, what are you here for?" Yao asked, deciding to break the icy silence between them.

"Photocopying," Kiku answered.

"OK… photocopying what?" Yao prompted.

"Stuff," Kiku replied.

"Whatever," Yao sighed as the photocopier completed its task.

He took his books and left Kiku standing beside the photocopier. Quietly, he fitted his book in place and contemplated what had just happened. Yao had attempted to make conversation, and he had bluntly rejected that proposition.

The question was, had he made the right decision in doing so?

Strange as that sounded, his once wonderful friendship with Yao had been blighted by the events of Year Four. There was reason they had stood in that line, awkward and unable to communicate effectively. Years of separation only emphasised how different the two of them actually were.

Kiku thought he had made the right decision.

Kiku hoped he had made the right decision.

 **F.B.**

Francis had never anticipated that being manager of a band would prove to be so difficult. The announcement of the band's name had instantly put off two of the band's members. Recalling last week's flounder was enough to give him a headache…

" _I find that both rude and offensive," Yao had said, instantly raising his hands from the piano._

" _Say that again, and I'm never coming back," Ivan had added, standing and walking away from the drums._

" _Hey, where are you going?" Alfred had asked him, shrugging his shoulders. "I could've done so much worse – at least I say Coms instead of Commies, right?"_

" _Not right," Ivan had replied, still on his path through the doorway. "And to answer your question, I'm leaving because your 'idea' was pathetic."_

" _Wait-"_

" _Say anything else, and I'll be tempted to quit," Ivan had brushed past Francis._

 _For a moment, Yao had sat at the piano, twiddling his thumbs whilst all eyes settled on him to make his own decision. He had then grimaced and stood, with a slight shrug._

" _I think it's more appropriate that I leave as well," he admitted. "I guess we'll talk later?"_

 _And then he had left._

" _Am I right in assuming you're back to square one again?" Roderich had asked sceptically._

" _Square one? What's that?" Alfred had frowned._

" _Finding a band," the musical genius answered, and that seemed to make Alfred throw the glove of defeat down as well._

" _I make one suggestion and it gets cut down," he'd complained, leaning the guitar against the wall. "I'm just as done as they are…"_

 _He'd left as well, leaving Francis to deal with the musically talented._

" _That could've gone a lot better, in my opinion," Roderich had said._

" _It could've gone worse," Francis admitted, much to the surprise of both Roderich and Miss Lore. "The other two could've quit on the spot."_

" _They seemed about to," Miss Lore said. "Considering you're now their manager, I want you to find out whether this band is still going or not. Roderich is a student of significant musical talent and could be focusing his skills in different areas rather than teaching a few basics to his student friends."_

" _I'll have it sorted," Francis had replied, and instantly fled the room, no longer wanting to be under the scrutiny of both Roderich and the dreaded Miss Lore._

Now he sat in the library, a week later, reading an e-mail from Miss Lore that he interpreted as this:

"If this band nonsense isn't cleared up by mid-October, I would advise you abandon hope, as the Talent Show would be too close by then for them to actually accomplish something worthy of credit."

She didn't exactly write that, but Francis knew Miss Lore well enough to know that that was what she meant. He had been desperately attempting to contact the band members.

So far, he had had little luck and even less reception.

He had called Ivan on the night to attempt to reason with him, but he'd received the cruel reply of:

"Alfred can talk to me himself," and that was said in a text _after_ he had instantly hung up.

Yao had been a little more reasonable. He'd said something like:

"I appreciate your concern, Francis, but I would much rather have Alfred apologise and speak to me face to face. I would also like him to do so out of his own decision… if that's possible."

He had expected Alfred to be a little easier than the other two. He had called him up over the weekend and he'd been _very_ non-receptive, very much like Ivan. His only replies then had been "hmm" and "alright," and "sure, dude, whatever". Doubtful, Francis had waited a day, and then approached Yao after Maths to ask if Alfred had apologised yet. The answer was a curt "no".

That had led to further attempts of communication on Francis's behalf. Ivan and Yao seemed to have chosen to hanging out with one another, and although he would eat lunch with them, Francis found the sudden disconnection confusing. Alfred had chosen to completely avoid him and the others. Arthur had appeared infrequently throughout the week, leading Francis to wonder whether his childhood friend had chosen to the path of a social introvert, and Alfred wasn't hanging out with him. Strangely, he'd chosen to attach himself to his brother, much to the disdain of Matthew's friend, Carlos, who disliked Alfred greatly.

There was one time when Francis had caught Alfred. It had been Wednesday lunch when he'd approached the other boy to inquire about speaking with both Ivan and Yao. Alfred had nervously coughed and claimed that his time was now being devoted to his Maths education. After that, Francis noticed he strictly avoided him, even opting to abandon his brother and Carlos if he saw Francis in the corridor.

Francis drummed his fingers on the table and glanced around the library. That was when he noticed Arthur hunched over a computer. Curious, since he had seen extremely little of the other boy this week, he approached and glanced over his shoulder. Arthur was so endorsed in his work he didn't even notice Francis there.

His screen was lit up with hand to hand combat techniques, as well as methods on how to use guns and follow people discreetly.

Francis frowned. "Arthur, what are you doing?"

Arthur jumped in his seat and swiftly minimised everything. He turned in his seat, green eyes bright with surprise, but his expression quickly morphed into one of disdain.

"What the Hell, Francis?" he hissed. "Why are you sneaking around?"

"I should ask you the same thing," he replied. "I haven't talked to you in a while."

"I've been busy," Arthur said irritably. "Now, leave me to it."

"What is 'it'?" Francis pressed.

"That's none of your business," Arthur glowered at him.

"You're researching usage of firearms," Francis whispered, sitting beside him. "Also, we've been friends since before school. Tell me. I have a right to know."

"I know what you'll say," Arthur replied.

"Then you must be doing something bad," Francis sighed. "What is it?"

"Feliks and I saw Mr Vurkel in a picture and I went to the place in an attempt to find him," Arthur admitted. "I've been going there after school every day, but I have yet to find him. I'm brushing up on my abilities as a spy, just so I can be a little more subtle about everything."

"You're stalking an ex-teacher?" Francis gaped. "Arthur, I told you _not_ to go looking for Mr Vurkel, not throw yourself into his arms."

"I need answers, Francis," Arthur replied. "You can't convince me otherwise. And I'm not throwing myself into his _arms_."

"I know," Francis sighed. "If things start going wrong, get out of there as soon as you can. And don't coming running to me."

"Nothing's going to go wrong," Arthur said stonily and opened up the tabs on his computer once more. "Now, leave me to it."

Francis shook his head and pushed away from the table. He left the library and met Alfred on the way in. He was sure the other boy had told him he'd had Maths tutoring that lunch…

"Alfred…?" he blinked.

"Oh, geez, Francis, dude, I was just looking for you and Matt said you were here," Alfred said, and Francis's hopes skyrocketed.

"What is it?" he asked, stepping aside from the doorway to let other students pass.

"I forgot what our Science homework was and wanted to ask if you knew…" Alfred asked.

"What about…"

"Hmm?" Alfred interrupted, homework diary in hands.

Francis blinked. "Our homework was questions two, three, four and five A."

"Hey, thanks dude," Alfred pretended to jot it down – Francis could tell from the obvious way his pen made no noise. "I gotta go now, so I'll catch you later?"

"Wait, Alfred, what about-"

"I've gotta run, Francis," Alfred was already charging down the corridor. "But we can always talk later?"

"What about the band?" Francis called after him.

"I gotta go!" Alfred ignored him. "It's urgent."

Francis felt the corners of his own mouth tug down as he watched Alfred pretty much sprint away in an attempt to dodge responsibility.

He texted Alfred after school that day. Although it said Alfred had seen his text, no reply was offered. So much for talking later…

* * *

 **A/N:** _Well, it seems the gang are having some issues concerning membership! Will they be able to resolve their problems, or will all fall to pieces? Find you next time!_

Also, remember to leave a review! I love reading everyone's comments and thoughts; it's really interesting to see what others think of what I've written! Thank you very much for reading Gakutalia!

Roderich Edelstein: _Austria_  
Matthew Jones: _Canada_  
Carlos Machado: _Cuba_  
Feliks Lukasiewicz: _Poland_


	12. Chapter 11

**A/N:** _I feel like, recently, there's been a lot of me complaining about how much work I've had! It's probably minimal compared to some other people, but I'm so lazy that I can't handle the work! On a not so bright note, I've only received more work! If only I had a full weekend to crack down on some of this stuff, but my Saturdays have been jam packed, and I don't think that's going to change for another two weeks or so, unfortunately! However, for all those who read Gakutalia on a weekly basis up to this point, never fear! Work will never get in the way of my passions, as it currently stands. I will continue to endeavour to get each chapter out on time, and will be content to post more chapters!_

 _On a much brighter note, I got a prize for my school's prize giving day! That's never happened before! I should be receiving that next week, but I thought I would mention my work is proving to be worth it! You are looking (or reading about) the new winner of the Achievement Prize in Classical Civilisations! Ancient Rome and Germania would be proud. I'll stop talking now. The next chapter's here: I hope you enjoy!_

* * *

 **A.K.**

After Francis had taken a full look at what he was doing, Arthur began to wonder whether he should be more subtle about his research approach, or if it really was just Francis minding other people's business when he shouldn't have been. Nevertheless, Arthur wrote down all the websites he'd found in his homework diary, and closed all the tabs on his computer afterwards. He even made sure to delete his history, so that the school wouldn't become suspicious, if they cared enough to check through his records.

He gathered the books he'd found and slung his bag over his shoulder before retreating to the desk where the librarian sat.

Ms Olsey was one of a kind. There was nothing particularly wrong with the lady until you broke the library rules or returned a book abominably late. She was heavyset, a robust woman who was nearing the age of forty. Her frame was larger than Arthur's – she was taller and broader – which created a certain level of intimidation that Arthur casually ignored unless directly spoken to. She had an extremely square jaw and a thick, wide forehead. Her hair was cut short in a bob, but that still hadn't stopped a Year Eight Alfred calling her "Sir" and treating her like a male teacher when she first arrived. He'd only been fortunate because she seemed to accept "Sir" and obviously had been treated like a bloke before. Arthur was sure she had come from some kind of military camp and had retired or something. All he knew was that, if you took books from the library, you should return them in order to keep your life.

Ms Olsey checked his books through. "Name?"

"Arthur Kirkland," he replied.

She typed in his name. She waited. The computer loaded. She clicked on his name and scanned the books through. There was _A Man Called Intrepid_ by William Stevenson, _Gideon's Spies_ by Gordon Thomas and _Churchill and Secret Service_ by David Stafford. Ms Olsey glanced at him as she passed the books through, but said nothing and handed them to him once she was done. Arthur had been just as quizzical when he'd searched for books on the library catalogue. Why would a school keep books, guiding people about the lives of spies? She printed a receipt and typed in the dreaded deadline.

"Return them on the second week of November," she instructed. "That's your deadline."

"Yes, Ms Olsey," he took the books from her hands.

Swiftly, Arthur left the library, tucking the books into his bag. He was walking along when he recalled Francis had been alone. He wondered why, because Francis was usually one to surround himself with people. Come to think of it, everyone had been quiet at registration – the others had barely looked at one another, let alone said anything.

Arthur wondered if he'd missed some kind of massive argument amongst them and dearly hoped he hadn't. He wasn't one to enjoy drama amongst friends.

He returned to the older students' common room and promptly made himself tea. There was no sign of any of the others, and other students paid him no mind as he passed them. He settled himself into a tight little corner and began to read Stevenson's novel, taking notes about the actions of spies as he did so. He believed learning from others from the past was a good way of gaining the experience of a spy.

 **F.V.**

"I don't really know what Lovino expects me to do…" he admitted to Ludwig and Kiku. "It all seems a little sudden for me to be planning a party, as well as juggling my last year of school. What do you two think?"

Ludwig glanced up from a table he was drawing – it looked complicated so Fel hadn't bothered to ask him what it was about. "I'm sure Lovino knows you can handle it."

He went back to his table, too endorsed in academia to be listening. Instead, Fel appealed to his other friend, who sat with his art book in his lap, but doodled on a blank sheet of paper he'd rested on top of it.

"What do you think, Kiku?" Fel asked.

The other boy raised his head and frowned. "If this party is too time consuming and is getting in the way of your studies, then tell your brother and he can organise his own party."

"Lovino couldn't organise us three into a line," Fel argued. "He needs me. Besides, if I do this party planning for him, there's an extremely high chance that he'd invite me and my friends to his party."

"I suppose, then, this is your motive for doing it?" Kiku asked.

Fel nodded. "Lovino's parties are actually pretty awesome, because he usually holds this with one of his friend, Antonio. Antonio's a really cool guy and his parties are a blast. There's drink, girls, dancing, music – it's amazing, really."

Ludwig glanced up at last. "And _you're_ organising this?"

"That's right, I am," Fel smiled proudly. "Which is why it's gotta be absolutely amazing. Lovino would be devastated if I messed up his party."

"But what would your dad think about that?" Ludwig asked. "My dad wouldn't be happy if I threw a party in his house."

Fel smiled in response. He had never actually told Ludwig or Kiku the truth about his father; that was something he dealt with in silence alongside Lovino, especially after the death of their grandfather. As a child, Fel had never noticed his grandfather's attempts to protect him had involved countless trips to their homeland away from their father, or even staying at his fantastic house (which was later sold by their father for money that was spent towards drinking and gambling).

He had never invited either of his friends round his house, no matter how long he'd known them. He didn't want them to know about his wreck of a father. He didn't want them to know anything. Instead, he'd only told them his father was frequently busy with making sure they were provided for. He'd told them their mother had left, but had missed out she'd abandoned them all for another man she deemed better, as well as his father's problems. They only knew a section of the story.

But Fel would make up for all this lost time in their futures. He would invite them over as much as he could when he had his own house. He would include them in all his family events and let them know everything. There was even a chance he'd tell them the truth about his father once he was safe away from the house. For now, though, Feliciano Vargas was trapped in his own home by age, education and the lack of opportunity to progress.

"Papa's out that weekend," Fel lied.

In truth, Lovino and Fel would desperately get him out of the house. They'd managed it before. Both of them would end up dedicating some of their hard earned money from Fel's Saturday job and Lovino's part time career in order to get rid of their father for the night. It may have sounded a waste, but any form of time away from his father was worth it.

"Ah, one of those things," Kiku nodded.

"I'm currently going to be sorting out the guest list with Lovino," Fel continued. "It's just a little stressful, because as soon as I get in through the door, he'll come up to me and be telling me what I should organise next."

"What about homework?" Kiku asked.

Fel glanced at him and chuckled. "I don't really do my homework, Kiku. I'm not that bothered about it."

Kiku nodded whilst Ludwig smiled and shook his head despairingly. The two of them returned to their work, whilst Fel began to quietly plan his next course of action in his head.

 **F.B.**

Francis seated himself with Yao and Ivan, who had gravitated towards a bench in the Quad. The Quad was a peaceful little greenspace dedicated to the enjoyment of students through scenery. It was serene and nice, but they didn't go there often because Alfred hated sitting around doing nothing for ages. There was a bench that sat beneath two blossom trees, and at this time of winter, its leaves had long begun to desert its branches in preparation for the coming winter. It was a beautiful autumn scene, the green grass contrasting with leaves of red, gold and brown.

"I've had no luck speaking with Alfred," Francis finally admitted, for he'd chosen to leave them in the dark about his attempts to speak with their American friend. "He keeps on avoiding me."

"He's avoiding _you_?" Yao frowned, surprised. "I'd have thought he'd keep on speaking terms with you. Who does he hang out with? Arthur?"

Francis reflected on Arthur's strange mission. "Arthur's been busy on his first coursework draft. Alfred's been hanging out with his brother and Carlos."

"Doesn't Carlos…?" Yao looked quizzical.

"Hate him? Yeah, but that doesn't seem to have stopped him," Francis sighed. "Alfred's just come to ignoring me. There was a time when he would avoid the subject of the band and the Talent Show, but now he's just doing his own thing. Ms Lore has naturally been threatening to discontinue the band for reasons relating to Roderich's musical studies. I'm not entirely sure of what to do myself, especially as he won't speak with me."

"Sometimes I just wish he's a little more aware of what he says," Yao sighed. "Maybe I should talk to him… Neither of us wanted to be in this band in the first place, so maybe discontinuing it isn't such a bad idea."

Francis remained silent. He had liked the idea of getting involved with the school a little more, considering it was their last year and all. Even if he had been working in the shadows, he would still be able to feel the pride of his friends appearing before the whole school and playing music. Alfred had been so enthusiastic, only to suddenly drop the whole matter and avoid it.

Ivan had also been quiet. He sat on the other side of Yao on the bench, violet eyes trained on the floor, pulling a daisy apart.

"What about you, Ivan?" Francis asked. "Do you think it would be better to discontinue the band?"

"Hmm," he replied, which meant either yes or no, or neither.

Yao turned his head to Francis and mouthed, "He's been very quiet."

Francis nodded and stared straight ahead, watching some of the younger years chattering amiably about things that the three of them would probably find trivial.

"I just wish he would apologise," Yao said wistfully. "That's all I want at this stage. An apology. Some of the things he comes out with are just so rude it's a wonder he doesn't realise before saying them…"

"I can agree," Francis replied.

Suddenly, Ivan just stood and chucked the daisy to the ground, before stalking off. He headed straight out of the Quad. Francis raised both eyebrows and glanced at Yao, who looked genuinely surprised by this behaviour.

"Follow him?" Francis opted, and Yao nodded.

The pair of them stood and hurried after Ivan.

 **I.B.**

He kept on a straight course, because he knew exactly where Alfred would be, and he also guessed Yao and Francis would have followed him. Hearing Francis tell them that Alfred had chosen to ignoring them all had only fuelled the rage of the other boy not apologising after clearly upsetting both him and Yao.

He stormed down the pathway to the forest and tracked the markings until he could see the wooden cabin up ahead. Without hesitation, he climbed up the ladder and pushed open the door to see Alfred lying on the bed with his headphones in.

Alfred's response was just as sudden. He took the headphones and stood up, opening his mouth to speak. Ivan grabbed the collar of his shirt in both fists.

"What the Hell's wrong with you?" he asked Alfred, who blinked in surprise. "Why are you ignoring Francis? You have no reason to. Why can't you ever realise when you're in the wrong? Why can't you see that your stupid band name is bringing us all apart and for what cause? A dumb name? You need to grow up – you need to be a little more sensitive towards those around you – you need to stop acting like a little kid every time something doesn't go right – you need to stop avoiding your responsibilities. What do you care about more, Alfred? Your band or your friends?"

Alfred stared for a moment, and Ivan almost gave up on him when he inhaled and grimaced.

"I didn't… I… I don't… I…" he swallowed, glanced away, then outburst: "It's not like I intended things to go this way."

Ivan released his shirt from his grip and let Alfred stagger back a little.

"Dude, I didn't realise the name would offend you and Yao so much," Alfred rubbed at his neck awkwardly. "I thought it was funny and a little catchy, but I guess no one else shared that opinion. I don't want to come across as immature, so I'm sorry for the name. We can change it, sure, whatever. I just want to be in a band with you two, right?"

Ivan frowned and dipped his head for a moment. He and Alfred stood in awkward silence, the wind blowing the leaves around, the rustling surrounding them. Ivan then smiled and pulled Alfred into a headlock.

"Hey, dude!" Alfred squirmed.

"Geez, you're an idiot," he replied. "I'm back, but don't do stupid things, da?"

"Right, right, jus' lemme go," Alfred laughed.

"I suppose that means I'm back too, then, aru," Yao sighed tiredly from the doorway.

They raised their heads to see Francis and Yao peering in.

Francis sighed with relief and entered the treehouse with a dramatic wave of his hands. "Now that we're back in business, I can e-mail Ms Lore and you three can get practising."

* * *

 **A/N:** _Well, that's the next chapter of Gakutalia over! Until next time, people! I hope you've been enjoying Gakutalia so far, because I have a feeling this Fic might be quite long. After all! The 12th chapter and they've only just formed the band! Thank you very much for reading this, and I would really appreciate it if anyone who has a comment or something could **review**. I'm honestly an open person; I love hearing what people think about what I've written and it's always a joy replying to what people have said! Thanks again!_

Lovino Vargas: _Romano  
_ Antonio Carriedo: _Spain_


	13. Chapter 12

**A/N:** _Well, hello, everyone! The next chapter of Gakutalia is here, right now! So, I got a prize today at school. It was for Classical Civilisations, so Ancient Rome and Germania would be proud of me! Greece probably would as well, but since he's pretty relaxed about his mother's history, there's probably wouldn't be that much of a difference._

 _I can't directly reply to guest reviewers, so I'll answer the question here: **"Will there be ships in Gakutalia** **?"**_

 _I don't want to give anything away, so instead I'll talk a little about the structure of the Gakutalia universe! It's a little ambitious, but this probably won't be the only Gakutalia thing I write! I'll split it into terms: first term, second term, third term, summer break. That's the plan, at least. As for the question, will there be ships? Well, the first term does NOT have a theme of romance, and romance isn't a major theme of Gakutalia. I believe I put it down as friendship/drama? Anyway, romance will not be a theme introduced until the SECOND term, which includes February, the month of Valentines! In others, they MAY be ships, but not necessarily the ships you're all thinking of, and most definitely not until the second term._

 _All in all, Gakutalia is a story of friendship mainly between the Allies, and the overarching themes focus on how they deal with certain problems, be they personal or universal, and if they_ can _deal with such problems._

 _I hope this has answered the question without giving anything/too much away! Without further ado, here is the next chapter of Gakutalia!_

* * *

 **K.H.**

He sat in his manga club once more. For some strange reason, Fel had opted to come along, and was idly doodling beside him rather than actually performing any impressive feat of work like he usually could.

"I'm sorry, but, who is this guy?" Yong Soo asked impatiently, gesturing to Fel.

"My name's Feliciano Vargas," Fel suddenly said, snapping back into the real world, it seemed. "I'm Kiku's friend. It's really very nice to meet you."

Yong Soo blinked, a little thrown, but accepted the answer and didn't reply. Kiku sighed and stretched his paper out. He'd chosen to an do A3 piece, a figure performing an impressive kick towards the viewer, whilst holding a pair of nun-chucks in their hands. He needed a better view of the piece.

The door opened and Ludwig peered in. Kiku and Fel hadn't actually seen as much of him as before during this last week or so. There had been no explanation, but then, neither of them had exactly asked either, so there was no fault on anyone's behalf.

"Oh, hey, Kiku, may I have a word?" Ludwig asked.

"Sure thing," Kiku stood and set his drawing aside. "Just keep what you're doing. Fel can watch over you and probably help you if you need anything."

That last part was directed to his class, who bobbed their heads up and down. He walked across the classroom and stepped outside with Ludwig, closing the door behind him and taking a few paces away to avoid nosy students listening in on their conversation.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Has something happened?"

"No, no, nothing like that," Ludwig said. "I was just wondering, you're very good at drawing, aren't you, Kiku?"

"Yes, but so is Fel," Kiku frowned.

"I know, but Fel isn't exactly focused," Ludwig explained. "I was wondering if you would like to design a new poster for the Talent Show?"

"The Talent Show?" Kiku blinked. "How come?"

"I've decided to organise it," Ludwig said. "I got in contact with the current admin, and they were too flustered to keep their positions. I'm directing the Talent Show. I wanted to start by roping in some acts, and the current poster is piss poor. I want a better one, and I know you can make that for me."

Kiku considered. "I'm sure I can do that."

Ludwig blinked and frowned, before shrugging and accepting his vague answer.

"I will do my best," Kiku nodded. "Do I have a deadline?"

Ludwig nodded. "Before half term."

Kiku nodded. "So, three weeks. I think I can do that. However, I do not want to put my school work behind, so I may end up giving it in close to the deadline."

Ludwig shrugged. "That's not a problem to me. How about we do a progress check in a week or two?"

Kiku nodded. "Are you going back to organisation and maintenance?"

"Yes," Ludwig said. "There's still a lot that needs to be done, and I only have eight weeks to set it up. I've ordered lighting, but they told me they could only have it delivered until after half term. It's a problem, but I'll have to deal with it."

Kiku nodded again, and watched as Ludwig turned and left the corridor, taking the staircase down. Kiku returned to the room, and sat down to continue his drawing, whilst Fel slept at the desk.

 **A.J.**

"We're shit," Alfred lowered his guitar and glanced grimly around the room. "The only one that's remotely good is Ivan, and that's because his sister taught him those killer moves."

Ivan rolled his eyes and tapped lightly on a cymbal.

"I didn't think we were that bad," Yao replied. "Just unpractised. It's been a couple of weeks."

"Where the Hell is Roderich?" Alfred asked, glancing around the music room.

Usually, the musical genius never left the room, and he sometimes had to wonder whether it was because his love and affection for music had morphed into a psychological obsession, or if there was a hidden room somewhere that led to a second house of his where he could sleep, eat, wash and be ready to play music whenever.

"I'm sure he'll be here soon," Francis said.

He was seated at a little desk where Ms Lore sometimes sat to grade practice theory exams her students handed in. In front of him were timetables where the four of them would meet. Ivan and Yao were often free, but Miss Ronan had put in place the Math tutoring sessions. There was some part of him that was just relieved to have the band together.

After this week, they had just seven weeks until the Talent Show.

"He said he'd help us," Alfred moaned. "But I feel like I've made no improvement."

"I have," Yao said smugly. "I can now fluently do a C major scale over two octaves."

"And I can put a beat to it," Ivan added.

"Yeah, that's great and all, but how many judges will a scale with a beat impress?" Alfred sighed. "If it was a bunch of Year Sevens, then they'd get pity points. We're too old to be considered embarrassingly cute."

"I bet girls still think I'm cute," Yao said. "Speaking of which, when did _you_ start getting action, Francis?"

Francis sat up, wide eyed and glanced over at them.

"Yeah, actually, I wanna know," Ivan paused in the light tapping he'd been doing on the cymbals.

"It's no one in this school, if that's what you want to know," Francis said.

"Where did you meet her?" Yao pressed. "Have there been _more_ girls?"

Francis glanced over. "She was a summer fling in the holiday of Year Eleven. And there has been another, but she was a little older."

"Dude, you got an older woman?" Alfred looked at his friend with new eyes. "That's pretty neat."

"Yes, but I don't think she'd remember me," Francis admitted sadly. "And I don't remember her that well… Drink can have a lot of negative influence."

The three of them nodded until someone cleared their throat. The four of them glanced to the door where Roderich stood, looking irritated.

"Lovely story – really pulled my heartstrings," his lip curled in disdain. "However, I don't see much practice going on?"

"That's _not_ fair," Yao complained. "We've been here for at least ten minutes playing the odd tune and whatever whilst you've been doing whatever the fuck you were doing. Speaking of which, where were you? I was getting bored."

"It seems, Yao, you've forgotten the main rule here," Roderich scowled. "I teach, you listen. When did I ever say talking back was your responsibility or right? Remember that _you_ came here for _my_ help, rather than me asking you to do the Talent Show. If you want to improve, you have to listen."

"That didn't explain where you were, though, da?" Ivan frowned, and flinched when Roderich glowered at him.

"Actually, I just finished my lunch," he said importantly. "And I happen to be a slow walker."

"Well, you can say-"

"Play me Schumann's _Kinderszenen_ , _Opus Fifteen_ ," Roderich ordered him.

Yao's face fell. "Um… shoe child what?"

The superiority returned in Roderich's purple eyes. "I suppose you ought to start listening, then, right?"

Silently, Alfred watched Yao prepare himself for further onslaught from the Austrian musician.

"I actually wanted to work on something with you three today," Roderich's tone of voice changed suddenly, and he lifted a violin in his hands. "I want to work on beats and timing. I hope you all have some understanding of the C major scale by now?"

Yao looked smug. "I can play it in two octaves fluently."

"That's good for a beginner," Roderich commented. "However, as the pianist, you act as the body in between the guitar and the drums. People tend to say they hear the piano, therefore, you must stick to the beat of the drums, and lead the guitar. Let's hope your playing matches to that."

Alfred watched a crestfallen expression fill his friend's face and felt a stab of sympathy towards the other boy as he balanced the guitar in his hands.

"Are you all ready?" Roderich lifted the bow to the violin strings. "Follow me carefully, Ivan. Yao, you want two notes per beat. Alfred, I want you to play four. I repeat, are you all ready?"

The four of them nodded.

"Then we'll start," he lowered the bow on the instrument and began to play.

 **L.B.**

It was drawing near to six thirty by the time Ludwig deemed it fine to call it a day. He had established a team of four working beneath him, and believed that his team were competent in what they did. They were the best when it came to construction, and as they were setting up the stage and preparing props and lights and seating for the audience, Ludwig thought they were the most suitable students in his year for this position.

Tino Vainamoinen, Berwald Oxenstierna, Matthias Kohler and Lukas Bondevik were a reclusive group that seldom spoke to people other than one another.

He was in charge of the group, but he'd set Tino onto statistics. Out of the four of them, he could trust Tino to get things right, and the amount of money they'd be spending would be to his liking. He had been put in charge of organising the type of decorations he wanted to be included, and so far, Ludwig liked what he'd been shown in the catalogue. Tino was good at budget browsing, but also managing to muster some attractively cheap items. He was a nice guy with a gentle attitude, and was very understanding that Ludwig only had so much time, so was being aware of when ordered items would arrive.

Matthias's job was a little similar. He looked into manufacturing the pieces. He insisted DIY was far better than buying premade furniture. Carefully, he would look in a DIY catalogue for building the entire stage. Whilst it would be time consuming, he was also aware of where to find cheap furniture. Once more, with the budget in mind, Matthias was able to locate seating for the audience, for the judges, the stage itself, the curtain pole above, as well as all the screws and bolts that would be needed to construct everything he was getting. He was a loud spoken chap, and whilst that would usually get on Ludwig's nerves, there was something about Matthias that was charmingly funny – you couldn't hate him.

Berwald was in charge of actually putting the pieces together. Ludwig could see why Matthias and Tino had instantly opted him for the job. He was extremely big, standing a little taller even than Ludwig himself. He was a master when it came to putting things together, which was why he was the appointed master of building. He was extremely quiet, but extremely efficient. Once set on a task by Tino, Berwald wouldn't stop. He finished everything in good timing, but had so far been a little idle since nothing had arrived.

Finally, there was Lukas. In Ludwig's opinion, the way he spoke gave the impression of a monotonous acceptance to do as told. So far, Ludwig found that, if given instructions to do something, he would do it and far exceed the limit. For example, Ludwig wanted some textiles materials for Tino to assess as decoration, and told Lukas to get it. Lukas returned with much more fabric than necessary, but enough to say that they wouldn't be running out any time soon. He was a useful asset to the team.

Ludwig was just grateful to have a team at all. He'd arrived to see the situation and had found the previous administrators lounging around lamenting their lack of materials. They had been swiftly usurped, and Ludwig had sent them all packing to their classes. They'd been using this as an excuse to skip class, for which Ludwig found unacceptable.

"Well done, guys," Ludwig said. "I think we can say we're done for the day."

"Progress is looking good," Tino beamed. "I can't wait to see the finished result."

"Neither," Berwald said.

Ludwig anticipated that moment as well. He envisioned greatness in this setup, even if it was just for a school Talent Show.

* * *

 **A/N:** _The Talent Show is in order! Some new names here, but those will be mentioned below. I hope everyone's enjoying Gakutalia, and feel free to review/leave a comment! I love hearing what people say; there are always interesting and valid opinions across this site! Also, I'm not abject to constructive criticism, if anyone wants to provide that! Anything said I will consider and see if it can be implemented! So, please review if you'd like to! It's wonderful to hear from those reading this! Until next time!_

 _Yong Soo Im:_ Korea _  
Roderich Edelstein:_ Austria _  
Tino Vainamoinen:_ Finland _  
Berwald Oxenstierna:_ Sweden _  
Matthias Kohler:_ Denmark _  
Lukas Bondevik:_ Norway


	14. Chapter 13

**A/N:** _Hey, all! So, it's unusual that I should be posting another chapter so suddenly after the previous one, but I remembered I was going away, and won't be back by the time it's next Friday. So, what did I do? I managed to get this done for you guys, just as a thanks for staying with the story, but also because I won't be posting next week due to holiday!_

 _I don't know if anyone does this, but maybe you could save it until next Friday and pretend I posted it next week? I'm not sure if anyone does that, but there will be a huge gap between this chapter and the next one, which means there'll be a lot of waiting in between! Thanks all for sticking with Gakutalia, and I hope you enjoy the chapter!_

* * *

 **F.V.**

"Lovino, I'm very busy this week," he scowled. "I and Kiku are organising a surprise eighteenth for Ludwig."

Lovino's brow furrowed. "What? That potato eating bastard?"

"Lovino, Ludwig may like potatoes as much as I do pasta, but he's my best friend," Fel folded his arms. "He's turning _eighteen_. That's such an important year, and he had the audacity to tell me and Kiku that he had nothing planned."

"But what about _my_ party?" Lovino looked worried.

"Don't be so selfish," Fel scolded his older sibling. "Your party is ages away. And besides, I was the one who got your eighteenth together. At least let me do this for my friend."

"What are you thinking of doing?" Lovino asked, choosing not to be difficult.

"We're going camping this weekend," Fel explained. "Kiku picked to go along the forest route. It's about two hours from here, so I'm afraid it'll be just you and Papa."

"Wait? How long are you gone?" his older brother looked worried.

"If Ludwig likes it, the whole weekend, and I'm sure he'd like it since he's such an outdoorsy person," Fel explained calmly. "If it goes horribly wrong, then we may be back sooner."

"When do you go?" Lovino asked, panicked. "I can't cook or do anything? What am I supposed to do? Help me, Fel. Give me ideas."

"Lovino, calm down," Fel planted both hands on his brother's shoulders. "I knew you'd freak out, so for once I've actually prepared something beforehand. I leave Friday evening. For that night, you've been given simple instructions how to make a margherita pizza. The next morning, have toast or cereal. Papa likes to eat ciabatta for lunch. He likes goat's cheese, basil and tomato on it. Don't worry; I'll prep everything before I go."

"You missed Papa's breakfast," Lovino grumbled.

Fel smiled knowingly. "Papa's never awake for breakfast. On Saturday night, I've left a recipe for spaghetti bolognaise. You shouldn't have a problem. Sunday morning and lunch can be the same as Saturday. Are we all clear?"

"You're back Sunday night?" he looked doubtful.

Fel hugged his brother. "Of course I will be. You'll be fine, Lovino. You're twenty and you can manage your job, so you can manage Papa."

Lovino remained doubtful but nodded nevertheless. Fel didn't know what to do about his brother. Lovino and Papa had always been on cold terms with one another.

Their mother had left them when Fel was just nine years old. Whilst it was difficult to forgive her for leaving him and Lovino under the terrible care of their father, he recalled, from faint childhood memories, that his mother had been a superficial person. He could blame her all he liked for what she did, but it was clear his mother hadn't regarded either of her children with love.

Lovino was twelve at the time, and became extremely difficult, as their mother had always had a slightly tenderer spot for him, if Fel recalled correctly. Once she was gone, Lovino blamed, and still did blame, their father for her leaving, rather than their mother. Unable to accept that their mother had thrown him aside for a new life with another man, Lovino became aggressive and vicious, and directed his anger solely towards Papa. Unfortunately, their father wasn't the type of man to accept treatment of that kind, so there had been many times when he had lashed out at Lovino as a result. Lovino always called himself weak, because he could never bring himself to harm his own father. His brutal nature also separated him more from their Grandpa, which had put Lovino into a situation of isolation and abandonment.

Fel believed his brother was one of the strongest people he had ever met. Lovino took a lot from their father, and still managed to stand straight and look him in the eye whenever things became heated between them. There were times when Lovino could break down because he hated the life he and Fel had to live, but Fel never blamed him, and always attempted to help him stand before.

It was Antonio who had worked wonders for their family. He had arrived when Lovino reached Year Ten, when Fel himself had just begun secondary school. Antonio quickly learnt about Lovino's family situation, and took him away to Spain for a week during a holiday that summer. Lovino returned a little more light hearted, able to cope from their mother leaving, and Antonio continued to remain that day supporting him from the background. If it had not been for Antonio, Fel couldn't say where Lovino would be.

"What if I get something wrong?" Lovino fretted. "What if Papa wants a different lunch?"

"If dinner goes wrong, order pizza," Fel instructed. "Papa won't mind so long as hot food is presented before him. Give him enough drinks and you could tell him you'd made the pizza yourself. As for changing lunch, Papa never asks for specifics. I just know his favourite is ciabatta."

Lovino nodded forlornly. Fel worried about him and felt sorry for him, but he desperately wanted to be there for Ludwig on his eighteenth.

"Will you be OK?" Lovino suddenly asked, and Fel glanced at him.

"Me?" he blinked. "I'll be fine. Why do you ask?"

"Because I thought you couldn't survive in the wilderness for very long," Lovino admitted. "I think it'll be you who suffers the most from this."

Fel rolled his eyes and smiled. "If I hate it so much, I'll find myself a hotel or someplace where Ludwig and Kiku can meet me at. I know what you mean, though. I'm pretty bad at camping. Something tells me that Kiku and Ludwig will get the grips of it much better than I do."

Lovino laughed aloud. "You'll suffer, Fel. When does the train leave, again?"

Fel checked his watch and saw it was quarter past eight.

"Oh crap!" he cried, collecting his books and folders and shoving them all into his bag like a whirlwind. "My train came five minutes ago, but the next one's in five minutes. I need to get a move on! I'll see you later, Lovino!"

"Um… bye?" Lovino waved awkwardly as Fel dashed away down the road towards the train station.

He missed the eight twenty train and had to wait for the late eight forty one.

 **A.J.**

Behind Yao's back, he had gathered the other three to hold a meeting. It was nearly Yao's birthday, and he wanted to celebrate it by doing something cool. However, he wanted the others to also have a say in what they should do for Yao's birthday. Luckily, all had managed to save some time during the week for this meeting. Roderich had been pleased to have a pause from band work, because he would also be having his birthday. Alfred, the Coms (he still sometimes called them that in his head) and Francis had all bought him the entire collection of Schumann's _Kinderszenen_ on CD, for which he'd been thrilled about.

However, he now had to prepare something for Yao's birthday. He wanted it to be great, just to show a true, flamboyant act of friendship.

"It has to express his personality," Alfred instructed. "So I'd say bold."

They were all seated beneath the trees. It was cold, but the autumn forest surrounding them was amazing.

"That's not the word I would use to pick Yao," Arthur frowned. "I would choose 'traditional' instead."

"No, bold is like him," Alfred protested. "He's never afraid to say whatever he likes."

"Bold is different to rude," Francis admitted.

"OK, what about…" Alfred paused for thought. "…something that he likes."

"He likes food?" Ivan said.

"We can't take him to a restaurant," Alfred rolled his eyes. "Everyone does that nowadays. I want something a little more exciting."

"Is he really that much of an exciting guy, though?" Arthur hugged his knees. "I say we take him for a traditional meal of his choosing. He'd like that; especially if it's expensive and we pay for it."

"Dude, we're still students," Alfred said. "I personally have a price range."

"He won't want something insensible," Francis frowned. "I think dinner out would be something Yao would like."

"No, no, no – we want this to be a birthday he'll remember," Alfred insisted. "It's his _eighteenth_."

"We want him to remember it for a _good_ reason," Arthur rolled his eyes. "However, if you want it to be that special, why not wait until we're all twenty one? We should have careers by then, so we'll have a higher price range…"

"C'mon, dude, your eighteenth is something you have to experience in your adolescent years," Alfred whined. "I want something that Yao will remember for weeks on end afterwards. Years even. Something that can bring the guy to life for a night."

"A one way trip to Antarctica?" Ivan suggested and received odd glances. "Sorry… I would certainly be persuaded to be alive if someone sent me to a horrible cold place…"

"I think you completely ignored the fact that birthday parties are _enjoyable_ ," Alfred said pointedly. "I for one think we should go for something exciting. He might be surprised and angry at first, but then we need to get him to like it and he'd probably change his mind."

"He's not the most flexible thinking of people," Arthur looked sceptical. "As a matter of fact, I think we should listen to Francis and have dinner out."

"We can do that," Alfred shrugged. "I just feel something else would benefit the night and make it more memorable."

"Well, I think food out is fine," Ivan said.

"You know what? I'll think of something," Alfred smiled and stood. "I've already got an idea that will probably appeal to him, but I need to check it out first. I'll tell you guys about it when I've got it sorted."

"What if we disagree with it?" Arthur asked.

"You won't," Alfred promised. "Trust me."

 **Y.W.**

Yao wandered into the music room to see Roderich hanging around with Elizabeta. He had only left the group to hand in some additional Maths homework he'd done to improve upon a subject. When he'd returned, they'd all been gone. He was confused, and his best guess was that they'd retreated back to the music room. However, that was not the case.

"Oh, hello, Yao," Roderich seemed surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm looking for the others," Yao said. "Have you seen them?"

"No, sorry," Roderich replied.

There was an awkward pause as Yao considered what to do next and Roderich awaited some kind of answer. He could do the usual "OK, thanks…" and wander away or…

Elizabeta broke the silence. "Why don't you stay here with us this lunchtime? We don't mind. It's your birthday this week, isn't it? Roderich was saying."

Yao blinked and then nodded. "Yeah, actually."

He seated himself with Elizabeta and Roderich.

"What are you doing?" Roderich asked.

"My parents decided to take me all the way to Chinatown on Saturday," he explained. "Dad said I would like it. I think he's right. I've actually never been."

"A day out sounds fun," Roderich smiled. "Elizabeta bought us both tickets to see an opera orchestra event in the city. She even organised a place to stay for the night since it ends at around one in the morning."

 _Are they a thing?_ Yao wondered, but responded with a smile and a nod.

"My parents decided to take me piano shopping," Roderich continued. "My old one is a bit rusty, and I've been wanting a grand piano at home for quite some time now. I think I'm also getting a car, which I'm rather pleased about."

Yao blinked.

"What are you doing with the others?" Roderich asked, and Elizabeta nudged him.

"Oh, um… they haven't really said anything about my birthday," Yao admitted awkwardly. "But I suppose dinner at my house with just the five of us… Yeah, something a little calmer and personal."

"That would be lovely," Elizabeta smiled.

 _It would be_ , Yao thought, and considered sending out some invitations quickly before weekends were booked up.

* * *

 **A/N:** _Thanks to everyone whose been reading Gakutalia! As I said, there won't be a post next week, as I'm away, and there'll be a gap between this and the next one. Don't forget to leave a review! It's always great to hear what people have to say!_

 _Lovino Vargas:_ Romano _  
Roderich Edelstein:_ Austria _  
Elizabeta Hédeváry:_ Hungary


	15. Chapter 14

**A/N:** _Hey everyone! I'm posting this chapter a little earlier because I'm busy tomorrow evening and felt it was about time I had this one out! Happy Guy Fawkes' night; I'm off to see the fireworks with my friends, and hopefully a lot of you will have the opportunity to see some, too!_

 _I'd like to add a quick mention to **Italia is the Name**! Thank you so much for voicing your love of Gakutalia; it really means a lot to me when people express a like for things I've written! I hope you continue to enjoy Gakutalia, and that goes for everyone else as well!_

 _Without further ado, here is the next chapter!_

* * *

 **L.B.**

It was Saturday. The school week had finally ended. It had been packed, for Ludwig, with stressful arrangements concerning the Talent Show, and he was just grateful to be putting his feet up at last. Just as he closed his eyes, there was a knocking at the door that awoke him.

"What do you want, Gilbert?" he knew his father would have gone to work by now.

"It's not Gilbert," his father pushed open the door and peered in.

Ludwig sat up and rubbed at his eyes. "Vati? What time is it?"

"Hmm, six, I was just leaving, but I found your friends on the doorstep and have let them in," his father blinked. "The Italian and the Japanese boy?"

"Oh, Fel and Kiku," Ludwig yawned and climbed out of bed. "Why are they here so early?"

"I think they're going somewhere," his father shrugged as he left the room. "Perhaps they're saying goodbye? Either way, I have work so have a good day."

"Thanks, Vati," Ludwig threw on a jacket over his sleepwear and tiredly walked down the stairs.

Fel and Kiku awaited him in the kitchen. Upon seeing them, Ludwig did a double take. Fel and Kiku looked like they were about to go hiking. They had massive bags leant against the table. They were dressed in walking boots, waterproof trousers, jackets, and even wore hats to shield themselves from potential sun. Fel looked like he was bouncing off his seat with excitement, and Kiku offered Ludwig a shy wave.

"What's going on?" Ludwig leant against the doorway. "When did you two start this hobby?"

"It's not a hobby," Fel beamed and walked round the table. "It's your birthday."

"My birthday?"

"Yes, we bought you some presents, although you won't be able to bring them along," Kiku explained, setting little gifts on the table.

Ludwig blinked. "But where are you guys going? I'd have liked to do something with the two of you…"

Fel beamed at his disappointment, which bothered him. "We have that all sorted, Ludwig. Your third birthday present is that you're coming with us!"

"Wh-what?" Ludwig stared. "But I don't have any hiking gear that fits me! You should have told me about this and I'd have prepared."

"We have that sorted," Kiku smiled. "Your older brother helped us with sizes and picked out a kit and bag and everything for you!"

"We're going to the forest, so even got a map of the area," Fel waved it around.

"Hey, you."

Ludwig turned and faced his brother, who had come downstairs, half asleep. He had shouldered a bag along the way and set it at Ludwig's feet.

"That's yours."

"Oh, thanks, Gilbert," Ludwig said, actually touched. "I had thought the pair of you would hate camping, but I guess not."

"You cannot hate something you have not tried," Kiku beamed.

"Anything is fine with me," Fel grinned.

"I put your clothes for today in your wardrobe whilst you slept," Gilbert explained.

"I'll go get ready," Ludwig nodded and ran upstairs.

It didn't take him long, and a brief check told him that Gilbert had packed everything he had needed. Never had he expected Fel and Kiku to organise this for him, but he was extremely grateful for them having done so. He loved camping and the outside world. Spending the weekend with his friends in an environment like that only made him feel better.

Gilbert strangely saw them to the door. "Don't get lost," he called after them, waving with a grin.

"I'll be taking that, then," Ludwig said, and took the map from Fel's hands. "I assume we're driving to our starting point, though?"

 **Y.W.**

The sun shone in through his window at ten that morning. He was a little disgruntled that almost half the day was gone, but believed it better than the usual five thirty wakeup call his mother gave in order to give him a healthy, active mind. He stretched and lay in bed for another ten minutes or so, before finally dragging himself from bed and slumping in front of his homework desk to check his phone.

It was his birthday. It was the one time in the whole year that he could act like the unemployed.

There was an extremely long text sent by Alfred about half an hour ago. He opened that up and noted it was some kind of outline of what he would do in the day. Yao's brows furrowed. He was sure that all his friends had claimed to be busy during the week when he'd mentioned plans for the weekend; now he was receiving orders from them?

Moodily, he began to read the text, and could hear Alfred's voice in his ear as he did so:

"Hey Dude! Happy Birthday! Although it's about to get a Hell of a lot happier! I know you're out in Chinatown on Sunday, so this is the best time for me to say this – we've organised something for you to do with us today ;) It's nothing huge – a dinner out and then a super cool surprise to end the day. We'll let you have a lie in (since that's what b-days are all about) but you better be ready dude when I come trucking up your place at six thirty! Your eighteenth is gonna rock!"

Yao cautiously replied "OK". He wondered what Alfred's "super cool surprise to end the day" was. Some part of him was especially pleased that his friends had gone out of their way to organise a birthday for him. That was probably why they'd become strangely elusive with their weekend "plans". Yao smiled to himself. It was even better that Alfred say "we've organised something for you", emphasis on " _we've_ ", because his personal belief was that Alfred's idea of a birthday party would be too wild for him.

He ran downstairs to tell his mum about what he had planned. He was trying to fend off his excitement, but a surprise was just too much for him. He was eighteen but suddenly felt eight. It was great.

 **L.B.**

The trees hung over their heads as they tucked into a satisfying lunch at one in the afternoon. Plenty of snacks had been enjoyed along the way, and they were eating a carb filled potato lunch that Gilbert had carefully packed. All three were greatly enjoying the food.

"Camping isn't bad at all," Kiku said. "I actually really like it."

"I love how releasing it is," Ludwig sighed and glanced upwards at the swaying trees. "I'd even say this is the best time of year to go. It's not too hot like it would be in summer, so you don't need to pack as much water and it's just dry enough that wet weather isn't as much an imminent threat as it would be in the spring."

"You sure know a lot about camping, Ludwig," Fel commented.

Ludwig nodded. "I used to go loads of times during the year. Never to this forest, though, which is good, because new places are better."

"I'm really glad you like it," Fel admitted. "I was worried you might not, and that we'd ruined your birthday or something."

Ludwig chuckled. "No, I actually love this."

"Naturally, we did a little research just as a precaution to prevent us getting lost," Kiku added. "This forest is very big. We should expect to eat dinner in a clearing specifically designed for campers such as ourselves."

"This reminds me of D of E," Fel smiled sleepily.

"You didn't do D of E," Ludwig said.

"Oh, yeah – but I saw some pictures," he replied. "Does that count?"

"Not really, Fel," Ludwig sighed.

"Anyway, the clearing should be straight along the main road, until we find a wide footpath, according to the map," Kiku continued. "Currently, I think we're on the right track."

Ludwig consulted the map and nodded in confirmation. "Seems right to me."

 **Y.W.**

He was seated in a circle with the others. Currently, he had eaten a satisfying meal – a starter and a main – for which the other four had insisted they would pay the entire bill. This eating out surprise really had made Yao's day. Alfred was expressing some kind of excitement, and Francis seemed nervous when he thought he wasn't being watched, but other than that, the mood was generally fine and actually enjoyable.

Alfred turned in his chair and grinned as a waiter was approaching. Yao craned his head and saw they were holding a cake. It was dressed in elaborate white icing, and had eighteen candles delicately placed in symmetry. Yao felt a blush rise to his face – they had done this all for him? He couldn't keep a smile from forming as the cake was placed in the centre of the table.

"Oh, wow," he said.

"Three, two, one," Alfred counted and Yao's friends all chorused the 'Happy Birthday' song.

He twitched in his seat, and blew out all eighteen of his candles as they cheered the arrival of the song's end.

Alfred, who sat to his right, patted him on the shoulder with a grin. "Happy Birthday, dude – it must be great to be eighteen?"

Yao laughed. "It feels the same. I don't think anything's changed."

"Well, you definitely didn't get taller," Ivan smiled.

"Hey, don't make me ban you from eating the cake," Yao grinned as he lowered the knife into the cake's spongey mass, making the first slice.

He was surprised and delighted, to see it was a chocolate cake. Yao provided each and every friend with a slice and they dined on cake. It wasn't too rich, which was great for a chocolate cake, and the delicate creaminess of the icing only made the cake better. Yao thoroughly enjoyed his cake. They finished their drinks.

"Should I make a speech to commemorate me turning eighteen?" Yao reached for his already empty glass, preparing to ask for a refill.

"Wait, wait, dude, your birthday's not over," Alfred grabbed his wrist before anything happened. "Remember that surprise I was telling you about?"

"What?" Yao blinked. "The cake wasn't it?"

"No, no way – the surprise is way better," Alfred stood and walked behind Yao's chair. "It'll totally complete your birthday party."

Yao frowned and tried turning, when Alfred suddenly put a blindfold over his eyes.

"What are you doing?" he protested.

"It's the surprise, Yao, just wait and see," Alfred explained. "I have my headphones and music, so I'll just be putting them in your ears."

"Why?" Yao smiled. "So I can't hear?"

"That's right, dude," Alfred said, putting the headphones in Yao's ears. "Just sit back and en-"

The rest of his sentence was drowned out by odd eighties music, but Yao accepted that completely. He allowed Alfred to help him up by the elbow and guide him along. He wasn't sure, but beneath the playing music, he may have heard Alfred's loud laughter and Arthur saying "wanker", but he couldn't tell. Either way, his confidence in his current position dramatically dipped and he began to worry a little about where he was being taken.

 **L.B.**

They trudged through a damp forest. Rain had started falling, and although they had their rain gear on, it was still unpleasantly cold when the odd drop escaped through his sleeve onto his wrist, or landed brutally on his face. Ludwig kept consulting the map with the red line Kiku and Fel had plotted out that led to their supposed destination. They were supposed to have reached the camp by now – it was already seven and they were still wandering.

"I'm really hungry," Fel complained. "As well as cold and uncomfortable."

"It should be fine," Ludwig muttered. "Although, I honestly can't say anything better for this map. If we walk any further, we'd have moved beyond the clearing."

"Allow me to see the map," Kiku said, walking beside him. "I'm sure myself and Fel drew the plan right?"

Ludwig handed it to him and awaited his reply. He received a small shrug and the map was given back to him.

"I think we shall just have to make camp in this area," he stopped and turned to them. "I know it's not ideal, but we can sort everything out tomorrow when we're well rested and have something in our stomachs."

"Sounds good to me," Fel yawned, and the three of them started preparing their little campsite beneath the trees and the pattering rain.

* * *

 **A/N:** _That's all for this week; I hope you enjoyed the chapter!_

 _I'm not sure if anyone read this and thought "What is D of E?" but I have a feeling it's a UK exclusive thing. Anyway, D of E stands for Duke of Edinburgh, and comes in three levels: Bronze, Silver and Gold. Bronze is the easiest, being two days and a night outside in the wilderness, following a specific route, whilst Gold is about 10 days and is on a significantly more difficult terrain. It's usually a walk, but can be other methods such as rowing and cycling._

 _Until next time!_

 _Gilbert Beilschmidt:_ Prussia


	16. Chapter 15

**A/N:** _Hey, everyone! Another early chapter, because my Friday is busy once again! I'm going to be seeing one of my friends perform in a production called 'Sweet Charity'. I actually haven't looked up the story, so this is going to be super interesting and new to me! She has the main part - Charity - so I'm super proud of her!_

 _I'll be a narcissist and say I'm also proud that Gakutalia has reached over **2,000** views! Wow! Thank you everyone for all your support! I appreciate it so much! _

_I hope everyone's been having a good week, because mine's been surprisingly stressful yet stress-free at the same time! All the stress gets concentrated to one day, I'm sure of it... Without further ado, here is the next chapter of Gakutalia: The First Term. Hopefully, things won't be too stressful for the Hetalia students either..._

* * *

 **Y.W.**

Alfred's taste of music was not to his liking, but his friend insisted he keep the loud trash playing. He was bustled into a car by Alfred, and forced to sit. This felt more like a kidnapping rather than a party, but he had to go with it, otherwise he may hurt Alfred's feelings, and he didn't want to do that.

The car came to a slow and gradual stop, and he was guided down from the car with the help of Alfred. He couldn't hear or see anything, but there was a smell in the air that he wasn't sure about. It resembled alcohol, which worried him. Where had Alfred brought him?

There was a long pause where nothing seemed to happen, and then he was moving again, only to stop once more. A queue? What were they queuing for? He felt himself walking and stopping and walking and stopping although he tried asking, he couldn't hear himself or anyone else's reply. It didn't help that it was raining. They were under some kind of shelter but the odd droplet kept touching his hand.

There was another pause, and then the rain was gone and everything became much warmer. Wherever they were, they were inside. Alfred took the headphones from his ears. His music was replaced by an insistent, loud bass drum. Yao's heart sank as Alfred lifted the blindfold from his eyes to reveal lights and people dancing and a DJ and everything he hated. A club.

"What the Hell?" he blurted aloud, unable to wipe the horror from his face.

"I knew he'd hate this," Arthur shook his head.

"Wait, dude, wait – just listen," Alfred begged. "This can be a super awesome party. I promise you that you'll be enjoying yourself by the end of the night."

"I swear to God, Alfred – and I'm not Christian – that you have made a mistake in bringing me here, aru," Yao snapped. "I would have been completely content to just finish with the dinner. What were you thinking?"

"Dude, let me get you a drink," Alfred begged. "We're here to have fun."

"No," Yao shook his head. "I will not let my guard down in this unsafe place, aru."

"This just got awkward – who wants to come to the bar with me?" Arthur offered.

"Me," Ivan said, and Francis nodded as well.

"Wait, Ivan, you can't just abandon me," Yao gaped. "You're usually the one who sides with me. We can't stay here."

"I like a drink every now and then," Ivan shrugged.

"You guys aren't even eighteen, aru," Yao said.

Alfred clamped a hand over his mouth and started dragging him along to the bar, further away from the security guards. Yao pulled himself away whilst the other three retreated into the crowd.

"Wait – how did you even get in?" he asked.

"Yao, c'mon dude," Alfred smiled.

"You used _fake ID_?" Yao stared, horrified. "We're going to get arrested, aru. My parents will disown me and all our family friends will see me as the child that went wrong."

"You're overreacting," Alfred said. "People do this all the time. Just have a drink. I'll stay with you the entire night if it makes you feel better."

"It's not that I'm nervous," Yao replied. "I just don't like breaking the law."

"It wasn't like it was your idea," Alfred said. "It was mine."

"That doesn't make this any better, aru."

Alfred sighed impatiently and glanced at him awkwardly. "You can't possibly hate it that much? If you try to enjoy it, you'll find that you'll like it. Just _try_ , Yao."

"If you pay for everything I get, I may consider doing this, aru," Yao looked around uncomfortably at the party-goers.

"Fine, whatever, it's your birthday," Alfred said, and started clearing a way through the crowd.

Yao swiftly followed, not wanting to be left behind and lost to all the people that surrounded him.

"Kiku would have a heart attack if he were here," he muttered to himself.

 **K.H.**

He sneezed, despites his efforts to hold it in. He felt the other two stir. They'd set up their tent – for which they were sharing, and somehow he'd ended up in the middle. He liked personal space; this completely defied that, which only made his experience less enjoyable.

He could hear the pattering of rain above, landing on their tent, and tracks of water were running down the side. He wore all his jumpers to keep himself warm, as temperatures had rapidly dropped during the night. He was only being maintained by the body warmth of Fel and Ludwig.

"Someone must be talking about you," Fel yawned and he smiled.

"I'm taking it you two were awake as well, then?" Ludwig asked.

"Yeah," Fel sighed. "I can't really sleep with the rain."

"It's kind of relaxing, though," Kiku admitted.

"We really are lost, aren't we?" Fel asked.

Ludwig turned on his phone and checked its status. "No signal. We really might be a little stranded. My best guess would be to turn back."

"But there was a super nice town at the end of the route where we intended to have lunch," Fel murmured. "It was supposed to be the perfect end to the day. What if we never get out of here?"

"Of course we will," Ludwig said. "Just try and get some sleep. We'll need a lot of energy for tomorrow."

Kiku glanced at the map one more time before attempting to sleep. Something wasn't right, but he couldn't place what. He checked each point, but they'd met each and every one of them. Setting the map aside, he closed his eyes and embraced the sound of the rain on the tent.

 **I.B.**

"You can really take your drink," Arthur smiled happily and lazily.

Ivan had taken today to confirm that Arthur was extremely amusing when drunk. It had been Arthur's decision to initiate a drinking contest between the two of them. Ivan had an incredible capacity to be able to drink a tonne, but he'd left that out of the conversation, because it was far more amusing to watch Arthur sink into the euphoria of alcohol. Francis had, at some point, disappeared to the dance floor with the attractive brunette he'd been speaking with.

"However, I'm not done yet," Arthur grinned. "Get us another shot. I can do it."

"Alright, then," Ivan turned to the bar and ordered another two shots of vodka.

He turned back to the seat when the bar man slid their shots across and saw Arthur was missing from his seat, and nowhere to be found.

"Oh?" he glanced around, confused. "Arthur?"

But his friend was actually gone. He frowned, worried.

 **A.J.**

He was sorely disappointed that Yao was not impressed with the club. He'd thought that it would liven him up a little, but after one drink, Yao had wanted to take a breather, and he'd accompanied him. They stood, side to side, looking up at the stars from their shelter from the rain.

"I honestly thought you'd like it a little more than you do," Alfred sighed, and watched Yao sip his drink.

"Hey, you tried," Yao admitted. "I appreciate you doing this for me, aru."

"It could've gone better," Alfred replied.

"Maybe I'll organise a tour of the science museum for your surprise birthday," Yao replied, and shot him a smile when Alfred had grimaced at the sound of that.

"Happy eighteenth," Alfred said.

"Cheers to that," Yao raised his glass and clinked it with Alfred's.

 **A.K.**

Arthur had seen the beautiful blonde goddess beckon and had instantly stood to investigate. She had stood at the edge of the crowd, smiling and motioning for him to come over. Whilst Ivan was a nice guy and a good friend, he didn't have the same charm this woman had.

She was tall, almost the same height as Arthur in heels, and had opted for a red dress Arthur couldn't pull his eyes away from. He had never been one for dancing, but there was a pull that had brought him over to her, and falling into moving to the beat.

He liked looking at her – her blonde hair looked soft, she had such bright blue eyes, nice smiling lips and her legs were amazing. He usually tried to avoid artificial appreciation, but she was so beautiful he could barely look away from her. More importantly, she had seen him and had wanted to dance with him. She had chosen him over all other men in the club. She had already made him feel important and he didn't even know her name.

"So…" he slurred. "What's your name?"

"You know, the British accent was definitely a pull to get me away from America," she purred in the accent of those from the West Coast. "I've always really liked it..."

"What can I say?" Arthur couldn't help but absorb the compliment. "I am rather well spoken."

"I haven't seen you here before," she added. "I like a bit of dancing every now and then, but sometimes you see a few familiar faces."

"Eh, first time here," he replied, and then suddenly wanted to impress her. "I usually go to the city, but my friend's having a birthday party and we thought we'd check this place out."

"Oh, nice, which birthday?"

Arthur didn't want to be too young for her – seventeen definitely would be – but he also didn't want to be too old. She would likely judge his age based on his friend's age. There was no harm in lying… Francis had probably done that to the older woman he'd been with. Judging by this woman, she couldn't have been more than her mid-twenties.

"Twenty-fourth," he replied.

"Happy birthday to your friend," she said, taking a step closer and dancing near to him.

He could smell her perfume – she was that close to him.

"You're a nice guy," she said into his ear, putting her arms around him.

He responded by draping his arms around her waist. This was definitely better than remaining at the bar with Ivan.

 **F.B.**

Francis was dancing with the brunette – her name was Jessica and she worked in a spa, specialising in the nails and massaging department. She was small and slight, and had a warm smile on her face as they talked and danced. She was here with her friends enjoying a night out because her friend had managed to get a good job in her journalism career, and would be flying all the way to Malaysia to do some research over there. Francis had met a couple of them and thought they had been nice as well.

There was a tap on his shoulder and he turned to see Ivan looking worried. Jessica admired Ivan for a moment. Although that disappointed Francis briefly, he knew they would never see one another again, and that she was entitled to admire others around her. However, Ivan looked worried, and Francis was always one for concerning for his friends over people he had just met.

"What is it?" he asked, frowning.

"It's Arthur," Ivan panicked. "He disappeared."

"He probably went to the toilet, Ivan," Francis smiled. "Arthur can manage himself."

"No, usually I would agree, but he was seriously pissed," Ivan winced. "We were having a drinking competition and he kept insisting he could continue and he was kind of funny so who was I to say no, da?"

Francis thought of the implications of a drunk Arthur roaming a club. It was like a private school boy in a Walmart. It just didn't work. He was doomed. Francis looked apologetically to Jessica, who shrugged and turned away to find someone else. He followed Ivan back to the bar where Arthur had last been seen and tried to look out for his halo of blonde hair.

However, Arthur was nowhere to be seen as the clocks struck midnight.

 **A.J.**

He and Yao headed indoors. As they passed through the door, Alfred shouldered an extremely beautiful blonde woman. He passed a glance as she disappeared rounded the corner.

"Was that… Arthur?" Yao asked, trying to look.

"Nah, he could never catch a girl that," Alfred laughed, and guided him away from door.

 **A.K.**

The rain fell down over his shoulders, drenching his clothes and soaking him to the bone – although he didn't notice.

"My car's just round this corner," the blonde explained, holding his hand as she led him along. "My place isn't too far. We can take off these wet clothes and dry off under the covers!"

That last part was added with a wink. Arthur just smiled, nodded, agreeing with her, regardless.

* * *

 **A/N:** _I would probably say Ivan mirrors my stress levels the most - slightly worried, and trying to convince himself that everything's OK - but Fel isn't too far off! I'm not a fan of camping, so I could never commit as far as Kiku and Fel have..._

 _By the way, if anyone was curious about the kinds of music Alfred has on his headphones, think A-ha 'Take On Me'. Speaking of music, I bought a load of Linkin Park songs today, and am feeling real good about it! They're right down my road!_

 _Thank you for reading Gakutalia! Pop a comment - I do like reading reviews whenever they come around; it's always nice to hear from the readers!_

 _Whose birthday would you rather have? Yao's or Ludwig's? I'm a little torn because of the camping, but I quite like a quiet atmosphere, so I would probably choose Ludwig's!_


	17. Chapter 16

**A/N:** _Hey everyone! So, my internet was really bad and tried to prevent me posting Gakutalia today! However, I am a determined soul and have persevered. As a result, I'm able to post this next chapter! Luckily, my week hasn't been so stressful, otherwise I might have retired early to bed due to the failing internet! However, I have a high morale, and so, Gakutalia Chapter 16 has come to fruition!_

 _Just a quick: I love birthdays, so Happy (late) Birthday to **Italia is the Name**. Also, happy birthday to anyone born on the 20th or 21st November (I feel it's late enough to post this for both dates)!_

 _Also, I may not celebrate it myself, but it's Thanksgiving next week! So happy (early) Thanksgiving everyone!_

 _Without further ado, here's the next chapter of Gakutalia! I hope you enjoy!_

* * *

 **A.J.**

They stopped at the bar and put the glasses aside. There was no sign of any of the others. Alfred was just about to start speaking when he felt a buzzing in the pocket of his jeans. He fished out his phone and held it to his ear, blocking the other one to drown the music out. On the other end of the line he heard Francis and Ivan speaking desperately. He could barely make out their words, though – the music was still too loud.

Shaking his head at Yao, he then said, "I can't hear you two – I'll just head outside."

Making his way through the crowd with Yao not far behind, Alfred kept the phone to his ear, still hearing desperate words.

"What's going on?" Yao asked, but Alfred could only offer him a shrug in reply.

They broke away from the club and saw Ivan and Francis standing outside beneath the shelter.

Alfred hung up and frowned. "What are you two doing out here?"

Francis raised his head and looked relieved. "Alfred, we don't know where Arthur is."

"Arthur should be alright," Alfred said. "Have you tried calling him like you did to me just now?"

"Well, no, he's hammered," Francis admitted. "That was off-putting from the start."

"Try it now," Alfred rolled his eyes. "You know what, actually? _I'll_ call him."

The other three watched him as he started scrolling along and selected Arthur's number. He lifted the phone to his ear and waited.

 **A.K.**

They were nearing the corner just when his phone started ringing. Rummaging through his pocket as they ran, he looked at the screen to see Alfred's name.

"Oh, hang on," he mumbled, moving his thumb across to answer.

The blonde suddenly stopped and kissed him. Arthur had seen all sorts of romantic movies where couples made out in the rain, but he had never dreamed that would happen to him. She slid her hand down his arm and took his phone from his hand.

"You won't be needing this," she whispered, holding it up as if giving him instructions.

Arthur found himself nodding. "Fine by me."

He watched her turn it off and they continued round the corner.

 **I.B.**

Ivan watched as Alfred lowered the phone from his ear and looked at it, a puzzled expression on his face.

"What?" he approached. "What is it?"

"It rang… and then just stopped," Alfred pursed his lips. "As in, it was on, and then it suddenly stopped."

Ivan grabbed his shoulders and started shaking him. "This is all my fault. I should never have let him drink that much. I've killed Arthur. He's probably been mugged and murdered and we won't know until tomorrow morning when they find his body in the river, bloated from hydration and disfigured beyond recognition. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if that were to happen. He has a way younger brother, doesn't he? How would I be able to look poor little Peter in the eye with full knowledge I had _sent his brother to his grave_?"

"Dude, just stop," Alfred pried Ivan's hands away from his shoulders and gripped his arms. "Just take a chill pill and calm the fuck down. You haven't killed Arthur. He's probably just found a lady he likes and… wait a second."

Yao heaved out a laugh. "It _was_ Arthur."

"Wait, what?" Francis looked confused.

"Oh, geez, wow," Alfred ran a hand through his hair. "I'd have never guessed."

"What is it?" Ivan asked impatiently, hoping he hadn't killed Arthur.

"Well, as we were coming back inside, we passed a blonde chick with a guy Yao thought was Arthur," Alfred explained. "I didn't believe him so kept us going, but I guess it was him after all…"

" _Arthur_? With a _woman_?" Francis blinked.

Alfred chuckled. "That's probably why he turned off his phone."

"Or may _she_ turned it off so she could _kill_ him," Ivan worried.

"What is it with you and murder dude?" Alfred laughed. "Arthur will be fine. Let's leave him to his own... _devices_."

"Are you sure?" Yao frowned. "I feel as if we're bad friends if we just leave him."

"I think he'd rather we leave him," Francis mumbled thoughtfully, and then shrugged. "However, I am ready to call it a night."

"It's not like we can do much else," Alfred sighed. "It's still raining."

"I actually have an idea," Yao smiled. "May I have the keys to your car?"

"My car?" Alfred look surprised. "Sure."

Yao took the keys and started walking along.

"Hey, where're you going?" Alfred asked.

"Follow me," Yao replied. "I'm going to your car."

 **A.K.**

They slowed from their brisk walk as they neared an expensive looking vehicle. Suddenly, a gunshot ripped through the air. Arthur turned his head, only half aware that he was under attack, just as the blonde ducked behind her car, pulling him down with her.

"What's going on?" he asked, indignant that a gang war would now potentially ruin his night.

"I don't know," the blonde replied.

Arthur stood shakily to peer over the edge of the car, whilst his temporary love interest glanced at him in slight admiration, whilst tugging gently at his sleeve to dissuade him from his drunken courage. He saw a man run into the scene, seemingly to search the area, before aiming a gun into the dark depths of the rain and firing.

The man looked familiar. He was dressed in a black suit with a white shirt and black tie. His suit jacket was open. Arthur _thought_ he recognised him.

There were shouts from the distance and then the sound of a car pulling away. Arthur glanced at his temporary girlfriend to see her looking around for danger. He looked back at the man and walked out from behind the car.

"You there!" he called. "You saved us back there, good chap!"

The man turned and did a double take. "Mr Kirkland?"

Arthur squinted and tried to place the man's face.

"Arthur Kirkland?" the man took a couple of steps forwards. "Is that you?"

"You know my name," Arthur blinked as the man approached him.

"Of course I do," the man replied and then narrowed his gaze as he neared him. "Have you been drinking?"

"I can drink," Arthur protested. "Who are you? I don't think I-"

Suddenly, the voice of the man clicked into place deep within Arthur's mind, and a recollection returned him like a whim. He gasped and raised a finger to point.

"Mr Vurkel?" he said. "Mr Vurkel _without glasses_ and not in a _tweed jacket_? What are you doing here?"

 **Y.W.**

He drove them all to his house, where he sat them down at the kitchen table and made them all traditional green tea. It was quiet, which meant his parents were probably asleep, but he knew they'd be fine with him having friends round. This was what he'd originally imagined his birthday would be like. The only difference was that they were all soaking wet and aware that Arthur was probably having the time of his life elsewhere…

"I never thought Arthur would be the next of us to get laid," Alfred sighed, almost dejected.

"I never thought he'd _get_ laid until he was at least in his late twenties," Yao replied.

Alfred nodded in response, with a slight smirk, and then glanced at Ivan. "He could never have done it without you. Bear in mind that you are _sole initiator_ of Arthur's social life."

"That might not be a good thing, da?" Ivan looked anxious still.

Yao wanted to cheer his friend up, but he seemed able to deflect every positive and turn it into a negative. It was miraculous, to an extent, but Yao just had to accept that Ivan was a bit of a pessimist.

"How come you didn't get completely wasted as well?" Alfred asked. "Weren't you having a drinking competition?"

"I can take my drink," Ivan replied. "Arthur can't."

"I'm learning a lot of new things about you," Alfred said. "And I think I like the drummer side to Ivan that could drink a whole bottle of ethanol and still walk in a straight line."

"All we're saying is that there's no need to worry about Arthur," Francis replied, sensing Ivan's discomfort. "He's actually a lamenting drunk, which can be a complete put-off. If anything, it's worse for the girl to end up in bed with Arthur."

Yao laughed. "She'll wake up and think: _shit_ – how did I manage to sleep with this guy? I could have way better."

"She was pretty hot as well," Alfred noted.

This was what Yao had wanted. He had wanted a peaceful tea and dinner round a table with his friends. Whilst it was sad that Arthur wasn't there, it was good to see Ivan crack a smile at last from their comments.

"I didn't see her," Francis sighed. "I wish I had, what with the way you two are droning on about her."

"Usually I'm more of the reserved type, but I actually think Arthur's quite lucky," Yao agreed.

"Who do you think will be next?" Francis chuckled. "Out of you three, I would say Ivan."

"What? Why me?" Ivan frowned.

"Because these two won't have a girlfriend until a lot later," Francis joked. "Yao's right when he says he's reserved – I'd have put him originally as just before Arthur in the order of our sex lives. And Alfred? Guys like you will always have a hard time getting the girls."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Alfred frowned.

"You're very open – you wear your heart on your sleeve," Francis smiled. "That's why, when the right girl _does_ come, she'll truly treasure that value of yours."

"Oh – thanks dude – but I seriously think I'll at least be next," Alfred said confidently.

"It won't be me," Ivan had started looking into his cup nervously. "I'm too shy to even talk to girls, really."

"You'll get more confident as you grow older," Francis patted his hand comfortingly.

"You think so?" Ivan looked thoughtful. "I just know that, if I walk a girl in through the door, my family won't accept her."

"Don't say that, Ivan, and besides, if you really like a girl, what's wrong with being with her, no matter what family say?" Francis said.

"Eh, nothing," Ivan said dismissively. "I hope Arthur's OK."

Yao could tell he wanted to change the subject away from the one thing he never talked about – his family.

"He'll be fine," he responded.

 **F.V.**

There was a buzzing noise. Instantly, he was alert and awake, looking around their tent. It sounded like a deep noise, dangerous and close. He grabbed the map for defence.

"Do you hear that, guys?" he worried, terrified.

"It's just a fly, Fel; get some sleep, otherwise you'll be tired tomorrow," Ludwig yawned.

"But it sounds so close," Fel shivered. "I think it's in the tent."

"It's a fly," Kiku murmured, half asleep.

Fel pulled on his boots. "It's in the tent, _whatever it is_."

"Do we really have to do this now?" Ludwig looked agitated as he half rolled over.

"Ludwig, I'm scared," Fel panicked. "I need to see what's out there."

He leapt up and left the tent to investigate. The buzzing sounded more distant.

"It's in the tent," he said, as the thing fell into silence.

No one answered. His friends were asleep again. Fel frowned, and then heard a strange noise behind him. He turned and saw something move. On instinct, he lobbed whatever he was holding. A bird flapped out of the tree and the map fell down into a puddle at the base of its trunk. Fel looked dismayed and picked up the sodden map. Whilst the map itself was made of plastic, the ink had run down its surface, blurring the way they'd come from, and blurring the way they were heading.

"They won't need to know about this until tomorrow morning," Fel murmured to himself, wiping the map on his coat and retreating back inside the tent.

He then noticed his phone beside the head of his sleeping bag. He looked at it and saw it had buzzed to alert him of low battery. Grimacing, he turned it off and put it aside. He should've really charged it before leaving…

 **A.K.**

He stood up straight to assess the man who had carried him through his English studies for as long as he could remember.

"I don't understand," Arthur wailed. "Why did you leave? You were one the best English teachers I've ever known, Mr Vurkel. _Why did you leave_? And why are you back?"

* * *

 **A/N:** _That was fun to right, and official worth battling my internet over to post it! I'm sorry this is late (or, it's a little late where I am, at least), but that's all for now! If you want, leave a review! I absolutely love reading what people have said about Gakutalia. It's interesting to get everyone's opinions! Thank you for all your support in this Fic, as it's been very entertaining to write so far! Until next time!_

 _Peter Kirkland:_ Sealand


	18. Chapter 17

**A/N:** _Hi everyone! I'm so sorry that this chapter has come out so late! This weekend has been absolute chaos for me! But because you've taken such kindness to follow and read Gakutalia, you shall hear about my not-so-problematic problems. Everything that occurred can be attributed to human error!_

 _I went to see Of Monsters and Men on Saturday; they were absolutely incredible, their voices were amazing and if you haven't heard their music, then I honestly suggest you listen to their stuff. They're from Iceland, and their voices are incredible! They were probably the greatest live act I've ever had the pleasure of watching. Everything that happened to me on Sunday was totally worth it; that's how amazing they were!_

 _Quick fire question: Why didn't I post the chapter on Friday? I was actually going to, but the Internet was down again, thus disrupting my planned session of posting this chapter and watching 'Reign' - if you like Tudors and girl drama, it's right down your road. That was a great Friday..._

 _Sunday was Hell on Earth... As an Englander, the Underground train lines are very easy to use (even for someone who's not British finds them easy to navigate, as an Australian source has said) but beyond that, it can be next to impossible tracking your trains for a first timer. I was travelling completely alone, and I'm not smart enough to ask other people for directions or trains. So, as you can imagine, it went horrendously. I had my route planned to be home by 6:30... I took the wrong 4:00 train, and ended up in Grantham (the concert had been in Lincoln) - I waited there for about an hour until the next train to Kings Cross came along. It was relatively easy to navigate my way back home once I was in the Underground, but because of the terrible weather (i.e. torrential rain) the trains kept losing signal and it was a very stop-start kind of journey which ended in me getting home by 8... It was ridiculous, and I was so tired and cold. My fingers went numb because of constantly waiting in the cold!_

 _Why didn't I post Sunday night? I still had no Internet. I think it's a problem with my computer that I should be able to get sorted... Hopefully!_

 _How do I have Internet now? I'm at school... Take from that what you will, but I was determined to get this out!_

 _Without further ado, and withdrawing from my problems, here is the next chapter of Gakutalia (beat my problems, Gakutalia boys...)_

* * *

 **A.K.**

"I can't believe this," Arthur murmured as Mr Vurkel approached, pushing his gun into his belt with an anxious expression on his face. "It's actually you."

"This is extremely inconvenient," Mr Vurkel groaned. "Are you OK, Miss?"

Arthur's temporary girlfriend nodded shakily. The rain was still falling around them in sheets. Mr Vurkel sighed and turned Arthur around.

"Mr Kirkland here would just like to apologise to you in advance for potentially lying about his age," Mr Vurkel explained. "He's a seventeen year old student who has probably effectively used fake ID to get into the club in which the two of you met. He's drank too much and would probably prefer to be in clearer state of mind when making decisions such as that."

She stared at Arthur. "You're only _seventeen_?"

Arthur at least had the decency to appear guilty. He knew, deep down, he was in the wrong, but the idea of the blonde before him had put his mind into a drunken frenzy of possibility.

"I'm very sorry," he said, sounding almost childish as he did so under Mr Vurkel's instruction. "I lied, yes, but that's because I thought-"

"You didn't think anything," Mr Vurkel rolled his eyes. "Are you able to safely get yourself home?"

That was directed to the blonde, who nodded cautiously, glancing towards Arthur, and then back at Mr Vurkel.

"That's good, because I need to get this punk home," his teacher muttered. "Sorry for his behaviour once more. I hope you enjoy the rest of your night."

The blonde stood, staring dumbfounded as Mr Vurkel began to guide Arthur away, further down across the parking lot. He heard the slam of a car door and the wheels of the car drive swiftly away.

He turned his head to Mr Vurkel. "What are you doing? I was probably going to sleep with her!"

"That's exactly the point, Arthur," Mr Vurkel scolded. "You're in a right state. I bet you probably don't even remember your way back to the club."

"Um…" Arthur glanced around, but everywhere looked the same.

Mr Vurkel took him to his car and opened the passenger door, hurrying Arthur into the car. He himself sat in the driver's seat and turned on his GPS device.

"Where do you live?" he asked.

Numbly, Arthur told him his postcode, despite the consequences this would face.

"Where did you go, Mr Vurkel?" he asked. "I used to love English so much. I suppose I still do – but I think you've always been the best teacher ever…"

"Really?" Mr Vurkel kept his eyes on the road as he drove; he sounded disinterested.

"Feliks told me you left because you were fired," Arthur murmured, leaning his head against the window that had streams of water rolling down it. "He said it was because you had a relationship with another student, and that he reckons it was Basch."

"For starters, why Basch?" Mr Vurkel asked. "And secondly, Feliks is wrong."

"You didn't have a relationship with a student?" Arthur smiled to himself. "That's good…"

"Look, Arthur, there's probably no need to tell you this, but please just forget about this meeting?" Mr Vurkel asked. "It's a chance meeting."

"Why did you leave, then?" Arthur ignored him, because his head felt like fluff and he wanted his questions answered. "Why did you leave English class?"

"I found a different job," Mr Vurkel replied.

"I suppose you would have other English classes," he grumbled. "English classes that are much _better_ than us. English classes that _understand_ you."

"Please don't say it like that," Mr Vurkel sounded uncomfortable. "You're nearly home."

"That's good, Mr Vurkel," Arthur yawned. "I wonder what happened to Ivan? I hope he's not too sad that I left him for the blonde girl…"

"Ivan was at the club, too?" Mr Vurkel sounded indignant. "And you left him there _alone_?"

"Technically, no," Arthur said sleepily. "Alfred, Yao and Francis are all there with him, but they were elsewhere in the club, so it could be considered that, yes, I did leave him on his own."

Mr Vurkel parked before his house and stared at him in disbelief. "Why are the five of you out clubbing?"

"It's Yao's birthday," Arthur replied. "He's eighteen, so Alfred wanted to show him a good time."

"Of course," Mr Vurkel sighed. "So, four of you illegally attended a club? I assume you managed to cheat the ID system?"

"We left that all to Alfred," Arthur smiled. "He's a bit of a genius when it comes to getting past the systems they set up to stop us young adults having loads of fun."

"No, he recklessly breaks the law that protects young adults who could make potentially stupid mistakes in the pursuit of drama and action," Mr Vurkel said. "Get out of the car; you're home."

Tiredly, Arthur opened the car door and clumsily stumbled away from the vehicle. Mr Vurkel stepped out of his car in a professional manner and closed both car doors before clicking the lock button.

"Are you going to teach us English again?" Arthur asked miserably as Mr Vurkel guided him towards the front door. "Miss Morbrey's nice, but she's not you…"

"Give your new teacher a break, Arthur," Mr Vurkel sighed and rang the doorbell. "Because I won't be coming back. I have a new job."

"I thought so," Arthur murmured to himself just as his father sleepily answered the door. "I really thought so."

"Arthur? What…?" his father blinked his surprise.

"I found him wandering around in the rain," Mr Vurkel explained. "I recall he was a student so quickly returned him home… I think he's alright."

"Have you been drinking?" his father demanded.

Arthur blinked slowly as realisation dawned upon him. "Oh, shit. Wait – Mr Vurkel, I actually don't want to go home."

"It's too late for that," his father scowled. "Get inside. Thank you very much for bringing him home."

"Not a problem, but I really must dash, now," Mr Vurkel rubbed at his ear awkwardly whilst backing down the pathway towards his car. "Goodbye."

"You were the best teacher, Mr Vurkel, until this moment," Arthur groaned whilst his father sighed and pulled him inside.

 **L.B.**

He awoke to the beams of light that reflected against the tent's surface. The other two were still sound asleep, but he was up. He rolled over carefully, pulled on his walking boots and took a stroll outside. The weather was cool and crisp, but the sun was out and that was what mattered after the appalling weather of the previous night. There was also a slight breeze, and the birds chattered in their morning routine of social gossip and light hearted conversation. He breathed in the air and felt better for doing so.

It was not long after that Kiku awoke when he had started cooking their breakfast, which would be a plain porridge with a little honey added to give it flavour.

"Good morning," Kiku yawned, and crouched beside him. "It's a nice morning. Did you sleep well?"

"When Fel stopped freaking out over an imaginary fly, yes, I slept fine," Ludwig chuckled. "I didn't think he'd like camping…"

He watched Kiku nod quietly in response. Ludwig had a gut feeling that neither of his friends knew what camping would actually be like. He also had a feeling that neither of them particularly enjoyed it…

"I think we should take another look at the map, just to make sure we didn't take a wrong turning," Kiku suggested.

"Where is it?" Ludwig asked.

"Hmm, between I and Fel," Kiku glanced towards the tent. "I'll take a quick look for it now, and if all goes wrong, we can plot a new route and take that one instead."

"I agree, so long as we can find ourselves on the map," Ludwig said. "Wake up Fel as well, so that he can eat."

Kiku nodded and approached their tent. Ludwig turned his attention back to the porridge, and doled out a portion for the three of them into a bowl each. He warmed his hands by the pots and gas burner, before switching it off and waiting for Kiku to come out. When his friends appeared from the tent, they both wore forlorn expressions on their faces.

"What is it?" Ludwig asked, frowning.

"I'm sorry, Ludwig," Fel burst out. "I didn't mean to! It just happened!"

"What just happened?" he started to worry now, as Kiku picked up a bowl and sat aside to eat.

"I was just trying to kill that stupid fly, but it turned out to be my phone anyway," Fel wept, sitting near Ludwig, who couldn't understand what he was so stressed about. "I went outside and tried to look around for the buzzing, and a bird scared me! I didn't know what to do, so I threw the only weapon I had because I didn't know what it was and I was acting on instinct! I've been so stupid, Ludwig, and now we'll never get home."

"Fel, whatever you've done, I'm sure it was a mistake," Ludwig frowned. "Now, what are you trying to tell me? Have a bowl of porridge and add as much honey as you like."

Fel picked up a bowl and started dumping honey into the flavourless oats. "I threw the map at the bird."

"Did you hit the bird?" Ludwig asked. "If you missed, nobody can pick you up for animal abuse. You should be fine, Fel – it's not like I or Kiku would rat you out to the authorities…"

"It's not that, Ludwig," Fel said through a mouthful of comfort porridge. "It was raining."

"Have you caught an illness?" Ludwig touched his forehead. "I suppose that could explain this feverish panicked behaviour."

"No, Ludwig," Fel swallowed the porridge. "I threw the map at the bird, it was raining, and the map landed in a puddle!"

Ludwig blinked as his mind processed this. "But, wait, Fel, the map is waterproof."

"Ludwig!" Fel slapped his spoon into his porridge. "The pen wasn't!"

Once more, the cogs turned in Ludwig's brain as his mind took into account what problems now awaited the three of them. On most occasions, he would happily blame the offender, but this was Fel. It was not rare to see him commit mistakes daily due to his habit of acting before thinking. Not only that, but you couldn't remain mad because you had to bear in mind that he would probably commit the same mistakes again.

He sighed. "Fel, don't get yourself twisted. Our pathway has been erased. So what? We'll just have to walk in the general direction we came from and hope that we'll break the surface."

"You're not mad at me?" Fel asked, spoon poised to scoop more porridge.

Ludwig smiled as he picked up the honey bottle and poured a swirled pattern on the surface of his porridge. "Of course not. We all make mistakes, and you were frightened. You only acted that way because your instincts made you inclined to do so."

Fel instantly brightened and wiped his face. "I was so scared, Ludwig, that you'd be so mad at me that you wouldn't be able to speak to me ever again."

Ludwig laughed. "Don't be silly. Now, I'm sure you still have the map, if I may take a look at that."

Tearfully, Fel nodded and pulled the map out of his coat pocket, handing it carefully to Ludwig, who inspected it.

"You can still see faint red markings from where it's been half rubbed off," Ludwig pointed, to make his friend feel better. "Oh, and what's this?"

The map's title seemed to be peeling off.

"Where did you get this map, Fel?" Ludwig asked.

"Your brother bought it for us," Fel explained, eating porridge.

Ludwig's fingers closed around the title, and pulled a little stickered label away. It had been disguised to look like the map of the forest, but instead, beneath was another name entirely.

"Whoa!" Fel's eyes widened. "Are we in the wrong forest?"

Ludwig felt his hands clench tightly around the map's edges. "Gilbert…"

* * *

 **A/N:** _Ok, my minor train issues are not nearly as complicated as being stranded in a forest... Perhaps Ludwig and the others have outdone me... Y'all can be the judges of that?_

 _Thank you for reading Gakutalia, and I'm very sorry it was so late getting posted... I hope you enjoyed this chapter and the next one should be out soon enough!_

Gilbert Beilschmidt: _Prussia_


	19. Chapter 18

**A/N:** _Hi, everyone! So, it's been a rather less eventful week for me, and I'm actually able to post things on time compared to beforehand. My internet's back! Now I don't need to be predicting the internet for whenever I want to post a chapter!_

 _I baked cookies yesterday; vanilla with a light drizzle of lemon icing on top. They're fun and easy to make, and everyone said they were good, which is a positive start... I don't bake often, but when I do I take much longer than necessary on everything! There was a little bit of leftover dough, so I had fun eating that!_

 _Enough about me, the next chapter of Gakutalia is here!_

* * *

 **L.B.**

He couldn't believe what had happened. To think his friends had merely fallen for a cruel trick Gilbert had carefully planned and possibly organised. It had been surprising enough to hear that Gilbert was being so helpful with the organisation of his birthday surprise. He should've been suspicious. He should've thought that, since it was Gilbert's last week before university, his brother would attempt some prank upon him. What better timing than to do it on his birthday?

"Wait, I think I may know what has happened and why myself and Fel didn't realise when planning the route," Kiku was saying when Ludwig deducted what had happened and how. "This is one of the Twin forests that can be found in this area."

"Twin forests?" Fel looked confused.

"There are two forests that are almost identical," Kiku said, spreading the map before them. "Some people have described them as mirror images of one another, except one forest is a route taken by more people, whereas the other remains remote and untouched for some time."

"I haven't heard of these forests," Ludwig admitted. "Why is one less used? I assume to preserve nature, since the two are so similar."

Kiku shook his head. "As you have seen, roads and paths remain, but are overgrown and unattended. There is a story behind it, but I think it would be unwise to say so, since Fel is rather weak hearted."

"You have to say it now, Kiku," Fel's eyes bugged out. "You can't just leave me hanging here."

"Hmm, OK," Kiku looked uncertainly between Fel and the map. "It is only a ghost story, so it means we can't really take it literally. I'm not doing this to scare you, by the way."

"Just tell me, Kiku, I'm more scared _not_ knowing," Fel said.

"As you insist," Kiku picked up his porridge bowl once more. "In 1956, there was an incident that occurred within one of the Twin forests; to be precise, this one. Three teenagers were celebrating some kind of event – I don't recall what – and were out riding in their car. Unfortunately, they were rather intoxicated, so weren't very aware of what they were doing or what was happening. Whilst they were out on their trip, their car hit a hiker who had been crossing the road. They hadn't been aware of her, because none of them were really watching the road, but killed her on instant the moment the car hit her.

"The story is as follows: they crashed their car into a tree and it was no longer fit for driving," Kiku continued. "The three young men felt extremely guilty, for the hiker was a young woman of a similar age to them. They called the authorities, who arrived to take the body away. Their licences were stripped, and they were all sentenced for some months in prison as punishment."

"That's not too bad," Fel breathed a sigh of relief. "You must think a lot scares me!"

"That's not the end," Kiku said. "Once out of prison, the three young men decided to make a tribute in the forest for the young woman they had killed. On the anniversary of her death, they went to the same spot – they knew where to go, because the tree they had crashed into was still splintered and ruined from their car. After that, they disappeared for some weeks.

"Because they were supposed to have returned, a search party spent some weeks looking for them," Kiku explained. "One evening, on the 23rd of June 1957, a man walking his dog made a discovery that all those search parties had been unable to do. He was walking his dog through the woods as he usually did, and decided to take a different route. In the more obscure side of the forest, he found two corpses hanging from a broken tree, curiously without limbs and instantly called the police. They confirmed that they were the bodies of two of the young men that had gone missing. They moved their search parties into the forest for the first time, which sectioned off the forest in search of the third young man, who was now suspected of murder of the other two.

"He was found, but not within the state of mind they expected," Kiku admitted. "He was gibbering and talking about how the young woman had made him kill the other two, for they had been at the front of the vehicle. He was taken away and locked up for rehabilitation."

"What happened to their limbs?" Fel's face was ashen.

"He ate them," Kiku replied. "He needed food and desperately took what he could get."

"This is a morbid story," Ludwig commented.

"It's scary," Fel shivered. "Is that the end?"

"No," Kiku shook his head. "The third young man escaped from the institution. Instantly, search parties went to this forest and discovered him hanged from the same tree in which his friends were, on what has become known as the 'Hanging Tree'. This is where the story takes a strange turn. Because of his situation, the third young man was in a strait jacket. However, in the space of time in which the search party found him, you must've had to have two able hands to tie the robe around one's neck. There was no sign of anyone else ever having been there. Public access was denied for the next twenty years, but once that was over, nobody went back in again. The incident of June 1957 was a case closed forever, but some students in 1983 claimed to hear the noises of a car in the forest, only to find no tire tracks when they investigated."

"I thought you said it was ghost story," Fel said, trembling. "Not a real story that had ghostly elements. Oh my God. There's three of us!"

"Except I like to think none of us will eat each other," Ludwig rolled his eyes.

"OK, then, we're hikers," Fel panicked. "What if one of us dies and the events fall into motion?"

"None of that is going to happen," Ludwig sighed impatiently. "Where did you hear that, Kiku?"

"A tourist book," Kiku said. "It mentioned the Hiking Crash of 1956 and I did some research on the internet."

"Gilbert probably knew about this and intends to freak us out," Ludwig complained.

"So we should expect to see him, then?" Kiku asked.

"Yes," Ludwig sighed. "Let's just keep going."

 **F.V.**

They walked through most of the day, heading back towards the road and opting to walk along that instead. After Kiku's story, Fel wasn't in the mood for talking so much. The three of them stopped to eat lunch, but he had to keep looking about warily, should anything of ghostly origins appear before him, or one of his friends suddenly decided they wanted Feliciano for dinner.

Even though Ludwig was certain that Gilbert would now attempt a prank, he wasn't so sure. He kept walking along, terrified by what was to come.

"Whatever happens, we're in this together, right guys?" he asked.

"Nothing will happen," Ludwig replied. "We may even find our way out before anything does."

 **K.H.**

The sky had darkened considerably by the time they reached the road. For some reason, their lack of a map had led them down several wrong ways. However, now that they were on the road, Kiku felt safer walking in the darkness. He didn't like how Fel kept clutching on to his arm as they walked, but allowed it since it had been him who had terrified his friend.

The rain had restarted as well. It fell down in torrents; lightning and thunder flashed across the sky – it was the perfect scene for something horrible to occur.

"When will this end?" Fel asked. "Ludwig, Kiku, I'm so sorry for getting the pair of you into this mess."

"It's fine, Fel," Ludwig sighed. "Nothing will happen."

Another flash of lightning lit up the sky, just as there was a low humming sound. The three of them stopped, the rain crashing all around them. It was dark, and they couldn't see a thing.

"What is that?" Fel asked, and although it was in a whisper, he was strangely audible.

"It sounds like an engine," Ludwig rolled his eyes. "It'll be Gilbert."

"I would usually agree with you but… where is the car?" Kiku looked down the road. "Surely we'd have seen it by now."

"No, no, this can't be happening," Fel took several steps backwards. "We can't die now."

Kiku glanced at him, just as the lightning flashed once more and he saw Fel back into something horrible. Fel turned and looked at the splintered and broken tree that was dented from the impact of a car just as the sounds of the engine increased around them.

"No," he screamed, and backed into Ludwig. "We're doomed! We're done for!"

 **L.B.**

The absence of Gilbert only made him wary, but he was unsure of how to deal with this situation. He had spent his entire life adamantly believing that ghosts weren't real, and now he was unsure of where his brother was.

Kiku was right: they should've seen Gilbert by now.

The humming noise became louder and louder, surrounding them as they all stood, huddled beneath the broken tree. There was a bright light in the sky that kept flashing, mixed with the lightning and the thunder, and Ludwig was aware that Fel had started crying and murmuring: "Please don't kill us!"

"What is going on?" Ludwig asked.

"We're going to die," Kiku lost his cool, which was a bad sign.

A white light suddenly blinded the three of them, just as something started emerging from the darkness – a big, shadowy vehicle that seemed to be moving at top speed. Ludwig heard himself scream alongside Fel and Kiku, as they huddled together, but then the car suddenly stopped, as did the sounds and the lights. The rain fell down around them in sheets, as they stared, horrified at a normal jeep covered in black, plastic bin bags that were being whipped about by the wind to give it a ghostly appearance.

From the vehicle stepped Gilbert, who was laughing, and Lovino and another young man fell out of the jeep alongside him, also cackling.

"I knew it!" Ludwig pointed at his older brother. "I knew you'd have a hand in this."

"You still freaked out, because you didn't expect us to have pre-planned this with sound systems and everything," Gilbert spread his hands out, cackling. "What do you think, Bro? Awesome, huh?"

"Why?" Ludwig groaned. "Why bother with all this?"

"Happy eighteenth," Gilbert patted him on the shoulder. "I wanted you to remember it."

Fel sniffed. "It was all a joke, then? The story and everything."

"Oh no, the story was real," Gilbert snickered. "I just gave the book to Kiku because I knew he would look into it, and it seemed fitting that he should read the scary story to you guys."

"Lovino? Antonio? Why are you two here?" Fel shook with fear still.

"We're in on it," Lovino sniggered. "You looked like you were just about ready to piss yourself!"

"That's because I was!" Fel protested. "What about Papa?"

"I knew he'd be out around this time," Lovino checked his watch. "And if he comes back, then too bad!"

"We thought we'd get you and Kiku in on the fear just to ramp things up a little," Antonio smirked. "It worked! The three of you looked terrified."

They all stood there, laughing and relaxing when suddenly there was the sound of an engine.

"What?" Gilbert said and they all turned and saw the jeep remained off and stationary.

"It's not the sound stations," Antonio remarked, checking a black box he held.

"Then… what is it?" Lovino paled at the sound of a car arriving. "Nobody goes down here."

They saw a vehicle suddenly emerge from the darkness, innocently driving like it was driven by three unsuspecting teenagers. That was, until it suddenly turned towards them.

Gilbert grabbed onto Ludwig and screamed out of panic, whilst Lovino climbed up the splintered tree in terror. Fel hugged Antonio, who had stiffened out of fear and Kiku blocked his face, unable to look at what was to become of him.

The car slowed, stopped and Ludwig's father stepped out, his expression one of pure bafflement.

"What is going on here?" he demanded. "Why are you all hiding in this forest?"

"V-vati?" Gilbert blinked and stepped away from Ludwig. "What are you doing here?"

"I was on my way back from work and saw you and your friends heading in this direction," his father explained. "I got caught in a red light, because I wanted to see why you were going to this forest. It seemed you were scaring your brother with some myth."

"Vati! Now _I_ look like an idiot!" Gilbert looked embarrassed.

Ludwig laughed. "Thanks, Gil. This has been a great birthday."

Gilbert turned to his younger brother and blinked in surprise. "What?"

"It was fun," Ludwig said. "You heard me. It was a great birthday. I enjoyed the hiking, and I enjoyed the scaring."

"Hmm, well, OK, then," Gilbert found a smile and gave it to Ludwig. "Glad you liked it."

"How about we finish it with a good meal?" their father suggested. "We can all dry off at home and order something in."

"Sounds good to me," Ludwig laughed, and they all started heading off back towards the cars.

The three older boys returned to their jeep, shaken and disgruntled, carrying their sound system, whilst Ludwig and his friends sat in his father's car. They drove away.

"I feel like we were played for fools," Kiku admitted.

"We were," Fel sighed, hurriedly wiping his eyes and cheeks.

"It doesn't matter," Ludwig grinned. "You can't say you _hated_ it, can you?"

"No – no, I can't," Kiku smiled.

"As long as my friends are happy, I'm happy," Fel sighed with relief.

Ludwig lifted his phone and held it so all three of them could be seen. "I say a selfie to commemorate this day."

"Yeah," Fel beamed.

They all leaned in closer and Ludwig tapped his screen, sealing the moment forever. They were wet, they were cold, but they were happy, and he could most certainly say this was his best birthday yet.

* * *

 **A/N:** _For all of you who like the Axis Powers, this can be your treat! I know Gakutalia is predominantly focused on the lives of the Allies, but it's always nice to see more for the Axis three. And, of course, Lovino, because he's one of the funniest characters to exist! Also, a little bit of Gilbert to brighten the day... Thank you for reading Gakutalia this far; I also love hearing people's thoughts, so feel free to leave a review if you have anything to say!_

 _Gilbert Beilschmidt:_ Prussia  
 _Lovino Vargas:_ Romano  
 _Antonio Carriedo:_ Spain


	20. Chapter 19

**A/N:** _Hello all! My Internet seems a little more tame recently! It's still a little unpredictable, but we had an engineer in on Monday and he seemed to make it better than it was before! Thank you for all your patience, as it has made uploading difficult at times._

 _I also realised that Gakutalia has now reached 3,000 views! Thank you so much for all your support for this story and I hope everyone continues to enjoy reading Gakutalia as much as I love writing it! Thank you!_

 _Without further ado, I give you the next chapter of Gakutalia!_

* * *

 **A.J.**

"Hmm, I suppose you three are able to maintain some form of beat," Roderich noted as he watched them.

After the events of the Saturday, Alfred and friends had really toned down their activities to school work and band practice. A drunk Arthur had revealed to each of their parents that they had gone out to the club.

Alfred's parents had been furious. His father had been appalled that he of all people would use fake ID to get into a place like that, and his mother had been both stressed and horrified that it was her son that had done that. He hadn't received much of a response from his brother, but he could only assume that Matthew was slightly disappointed in him. As a result, he had been grounded for the next two weeks, which he was moderately fine with, considering his grounding session ended just before half term.

He was aware Arthur had received an even bigger punishment, having his laptop confiscated from him but only during half term, as well as a week of being grounded. His parents had, according to his friend, been furious that he'd been drinking to that extent, as well as the fact that he'd entered a night club despite being underage.

Yao had told him that his parents had barely been able to look him in the eye, but that the trip to Chinatown had cooled things down until his father casually accepted that his son was allowed to, being eighteen, and that it hadn't been Yao who had organised the event.

Francis never told him how his family reacted, but he could assume he'd received the minimum punishment for his behaviour. His mother was rather carefree.

Ivan, on the other hand, could be the only one to joyfully gloat that his father honestly couldn't have cared less, and, if anything, was slightly proud that his son had overstepped the rules, as well as managed to keep straight headed in a nightclub.

The band and Francis had chosen not to alleviate any details to Roderich, who would scorn them for the rest of their school existence as a result.

"Are we really going to improve fast enough to say we're ready to enter the Talent Show?" Alfred sighed, and finally lowered his guitar.

"We've gone this far," Yao frowned. "We might as well finish what we started."

"You have improved," Roderich sighed. "And I assume you've chosen a song by now to play for the Talent Show?"

"I deliberated writing one," Alfred explained. "But soon realised I was totally hopeless at that. Instead, I chose _Karma Chameleon_ by Culture Club."

"What song is that?" Yao frowned.

"I even have the music," Alfred waved it around. "I strangely have a taste for 80s music."

"You can say that again," Yao rolled his eyes.

"Hang on, I have my laptop," Roderich said, unzipping it from a black bag that looked like something a businessman would carry around with them. "We can watch it on Youtube."

The four of them crowded around the computer – Francis remained at his desk, doing some kind of homework assignment, but he appeared to be listening. Roderich swiftly typed in the song and then watched in silence as the song played.

Alfred couldn't help but hip wiggle to one of his favourite songs and did a little dance, until he realised everyone else was staring at the computer screen in what appeared to be disdain. He slowed to stop and looked at them.

"How are we supposed to play that?" Ivan looked strained.

"I have the sheet music," Alfred smiled. "If we all just learn to play that one song, then we may be able to wing this Talent Show without too much skill."

Roderich made a disgruntled noise. "And I'm supposed to guide you through this, I assume?"

Alfred nodded. "I'm just conscious of time. We've got this week, and next week, but then it's half term, and I actually don't own an instrument, so I won't be doing practice during then… After that, it's just four weeks, and then the Talent Show. That gives us a total of six weeks."

"I suppose it's not long to learn an instrument," Roderich frowned. "I think it's good, though, that you've learnt the basics. I think you would need them to play this."

"What is he wearing?" Ivan looked disgusted.

"80s clothes," Yao leant away with a tight frown. "I honestly don't know how you find this crap, Alfred, but I'm just too tired to not go with it at this stage."

"I agree with him," Ivan glanced at Alfred.

"It'll be fine, guys," Alfred grinned. "We just play this song, and if we have enough fun, then it can be something we'll just enjoy."

They looked a little deflated, but Alfred was sure he could make the song grow on them. Francis just sighed, shook his head, and continued writing carefully.

 **K.H.**

He was in his manga club. However, he himself was trying to design the poster for the Talent Show. Ludwig had gone back to organising how the event would be run, which left Fel to hang around his club once more. His friend had truly integrated himself with the manga community, even though he himself wasn't much of a cartoonist. Kiku smiled as he watched Fel entertain some Year Seven's with purposefully terrible cartoon drawings.

He looked back down at his drawing. He didn't want it to be too stereotypical and base talent off of music, since the show didn't specify what would be there. He also hadn't wanted to be too complicated, so had started with something a little more simple.

His drawing was a mic, illuminated by the light. However, he wasn't sure about it. He felt it was a little too similar to the original, and that Ludwig wouldn't like it.

"I think we've run out of paper," one student was saying, and Kiku glanced over.

"Oh, I-"

"I can get some," Fel jumped to his feet with a wide smile. "Regular white A4, am I right?"

Kiku nodded. "Thank you very much, Fel, for-"

"No problem," Fel raced to the door and paused halfway through. "I really enjoy watching everyone draw!"

He flashed a peace sign and was about to leave, when Kiku suddenly had a light of inspiration. There was Fel, halfway in the door, his back turned from them, hand raised and the other lowered. His pose almost bordered dramatic, but there was something about him that suddenly inspired Kiku.

"Wait, Fel, just stay there," he said quickly, before the moment passed and his friend stopped in the doorway and glanced at him. "Look forward."

"Are you using me in one of your art pieces?" Fel smiled and looked ahead.

"I might be," Kiku snapped a shot.

Fel laughed and disappeared out of the door.

"That looks exactly like Kiku's work," a student said from the back of the room. "You totally copied everything!"

"Did not!" Yong Soo yelled back. "Why would I do that? Kiku's work sucks in comparison to mine."

Kiku sighed. "Whether he's copied me or not, it doesn't matter. It's fine to take inspiration from others and develop your own art style from there."

"I didn't copy anything of yours," Yong Soo gritted his teeth, tearing whatever drawing he held in half and chucking it in the recycling bin. "I don't need you to create my own style."

Kiku merely watched him sit back down again and looked down at his own drawing.

"You can't just treat him like that," the other student complained.

"Don't worry about it," Kiku waved a dismissive hand. "I honestly don't mind."

Yong Soo huffed and started scribbling furiously. Kiku assessed his drawing once more, before lifting the paper and folding it into many sections, before casting it into the recycling bin. He saw a corner of Yong Soo's drawing that hadn't quite reached the bin. He lifted it and took a look.

He could only see an elbow and a desk, but it looked a little bit like an observational drawing. Perhaps it was self-portrait? Frowning, he let the piece drift into the bin and turned away.

 **A.K.**

Miss Morbrey enthusiastically taught their class. Arthur watched her, and thought she wasn't bad at all. Mr Vurkel would probably remain his favourite teacher of all time, but that was because the man had had witty remarks up his sleeve for the entire class, remarks that weren't quite replicated by Miss Morbrey's slightly sarcastic sense of humour. However, she was a good teacher and had shown interest and dedication towards his education and contributions in class. He could definitely say he was learning from her, and she'd been more than happy to help him when he'd approached her after class to go over something with her.

Basch had also been given an easier time since Carlos had returned from holiday, since Miss Morbrey had seated them together. Her earlier saying of sitting beside him to mark work must've only been a joke, since she'd never marked work beside him, instead preferring her desk at the front of the classroom.

His drunken mind should've forgotten Mr Vurkel, but he'd awoke the next morning with a raging hangover and more memories than his former teacher probably hoped he'd had. He remembered the gun and the shots that had been fired across the car park. He'd sometimes found himself dazed and lost in thought over the events – he hadn't told anyone what had happened that night. He'd even lied about sex with a woman he could barely remember what she looked like, only to return home the next morning to the wrath of his parents.

Arthur hadn't even revealed to Feliks the gossip about Mr Vurkel. It had been something he believed too farfetched. He didn't want sudden rumours revolving around his unrequited love for Mr Vurkel. More questions had arisen rather than been answered. Mr Vurkel had a new job, but what kind of job involved having a gun and being in gang wars during the night?

Arthur leant back in his chair, completely unaware of Alfred beside him, despite the nudging he felt, and continued to stare straight ahead.

Mr Vurkel had a gun, and was roaming the streets at night.

He wanted to find the man again and demand the answers he wouldn't have been able to press for in the drunk state of mind of last night.

"Arthur, are you OK?"

He raised his head to see Miss Morbrey standing beside his desk, a concerned expression on her face. Silence followed as he struggled to answer, but at least the other students didn't snigger.

"You've been very distant," she noted. "And yet, you were still taking everything down, so I wondered if something was wrong?"

He looked at his desk and noticed he'd been writing on automatic.

"Oh, no, I'm surprised you didn't bring me to attention, Alfred," he chuckled nervously, and then noticed the seat beside him was empty. "What?"

"Your classmates all left," Miss Morbrey said. "The school day ended. Are you sure everything's fine?"

Arthur stood awkwardly, realising he'd been more lost in thought than he'd believed. He started packing his bags.

"Everything's fine," he murmured. "Just… was completely lost there. I think I'm a little tired."

"Alright," she replied. "Well, I have that essay you wrote, and I've marked that."

"Oh?" he was sure he'd only given it in earlier that week.

He watched her walk over to her desk, and lifted a folder marked 'Year 13' with her slender hands, whilst he crammed his stuff into his bag. She walked over and handed the paper to him with a pleasant smile.

"You're doing very well," she said brightly. "I think if you just read my feedback and keep up at the pace you're at, you'll do very well in the exam."

He nodded as he took the paper from her and glanced at the front, seeing all sorts of little comments in the margins.

"Pink pen," he accidently mused aloud, and regretted that as soon as the words left his mouth.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, I just use that one a lot," she nodded with a smile, and continued closing her folder.

 _If you weren't a teacher_ , he thought, watching her, until she looked back at him.

"Is there something wrong, Arthur?" she still looked concerned.

"No," he felt his face heat up. "Nothing."

She nodded, and broke the gaze.

"Thanks – for marking it," he said awkwardly, and chose to leave the room then without awaiting an answer.

 _That was weird_ , he ran a hand through his hair. _Never do that again, idiot_.

* * *

 **A/N:** _So... who is Mr Vurkel? Will he return? Will Arthur get the answers he needs? And will the band improve in time for the Talent Show? Until next time!_

Roderich Edelstein: _Austria  
_ Yong Soo Im: _South Korea  
_ Basch Zwingli: _Switzerland_ _  
_


	21. Chapter 20

**A/N:** _Hey, everyone! So, it's a week until Christmas, and the Gakutalia students seem to be a little behind us! Oh, well, they'll just have to wait until the holidays! I assure you should probably hear from me before the 25th, so I shan't with you a Merry Christmas just this yet..._

 _A quick little mention to **Poisonlilie** , who has been a consistent supporter of Gakutalia so far! Thank you very much for all your reviews!_

 _Without further ado, here is Gakutalia!_

* * *

 **L.B.**

It was the last week before half term, and he had just about had enough with the organisation. It seemed the other four were getting more tired as well. Their progress had slowed, and Ludwig sometimes found himself having thirty minute breaks with them, drinking soda and complaining about school with them.

He still hadn't received a drawing from Kiku, which worried him, since this was the week he'd at least expected a progress check. Over the half term, he would be mass producing the posters, and needed a design from Kiku fast at this rate.

"I actually can't wait until this is all set up," Tino smiled. "I think it'll be very exciting."

"I can finally say I contributed something to this school," Matthias grinned. "Even if it was only something extremely minor."

"I think we've all done well, so far," Ludwig nodded. "We just need everything to arrive when it does."

"How is Kiku doing with the posters?" Tino asked.

"He hasn't got back to me yet, but I'm sure he will," Ludwig replied. "He's usually extremely efficient, but he was hesitant from the start about what he'd do…"

"Inspiration will come to him," Lukas shrugged and all glanced at him.

 _He really is very odd,_ Ludwig thought, as Lukas chose not to explain any further of what he meant.

"Well, I think you're judgement on Kiku is right," Tino smiled helpfully. "He's very diligent and knows what he's doing."

"I've s'n h'm in Art," Berwald yawned, and took a swig of soda. "He's alw'ys dr'wing someth'ng that looks mod'r'tely good. Tino's a good artist…"

"Oh, thank you, Berwald," Tino smiled.

"I'm w'rking with B'sch," Berwald continued. "I alw'ys try to catch him look'ng at me, but he c'n n'ver hold my gaze, so I c'n n'ver draw his portr'its right…"

"Probably because, whenever the poor kid looks up at you, he sees your gaze boring into his soul?" Matthias frowned. "I can't hold your gaze and I hang out with you."

"I'm sure it's not that," Ludwig said. "Basch isn't the most personable of people, so getting close to others isn't likely to make him feel the most comfortable."

"Basch isn't b'd at dr'wing," Berwald continued. "But I suck. I am not flatt'ring to him in the slightest."

"I'm sure that's not the case," Tino tried to comfort his friend.

"His dr'wings are all cute whilst mine aren't ev'n straight," Berwald sighed.

"I work with Fel," Ludwig laughed. "He's probably going to be an artist or something like that when he's older."

"Oh, I've seen his drawings before," Tino beamed in admiration. "He's got such a beautiful art style. It's very delicate, but he can also do such bold things as well."

"I can draw wobbly circles and that's about it," Ludwig chuckled.

"Feliks never sits still," Lukas complained. "And he's always talking. I don't care what he talks about, but he still tells me."

"You guys got it lucky," Matthias scowled. "I work with freaking Edelstein."

Ludwig grimaced. "He's very picky."

"Especially if you're crap," Matthias frowned. "There he is quibbling over my shoulder, whilst I'm grinding my teeth and muttering 'imma kill a bitch' under my breath – but there's nothing I can do, because the guy's a sassy little shit and undermines everything I say and do."

"He is very particular," Ludwig nodded in agreement. "When we were younger, our parents always spoke – we still have family barbeques and everything, but I don't talk to him as much as possible – and he is very particular."

"He thinks he's the shit," Matthias complained. "He's really not. The guy's good at music, but his art is nothing spectacular; he doesn't go beyond average."

"Who's your partner, Tino?" Ludwig asked.

The other boy laughed nervously. "That would be Sadik."

"Sadik?" Ludwig thought for a moment. "I actually don't know him that well…"

"He's very nice," Tino smiled. "Yes, very nice, and he's dedicated to the project. We've met over a couple weekends where we worked on our art together, but, well…"

"What's wrong with him?" Ludwig frowned.

"It's not that anything's wrong with him," Tino said quickly. "He's just very… energetic… whereas I'm a bit more of a peaceful soul. I sometimes have to take a nap whenever he's been round, because he seriously just drains me of any energy I have over the weekend… But he's a lovely person!"

"I don't doubt that," Ludwig said. "Although I haven't spoken to him much."

"Ludwig, I have the poster design!"

All their heads turned to see Kiku run down the stairs from the gallery above, and into the theatre hall where the Talent Show was being organised. Kiku usually never ran, and had a dishevelled look to him as he approached them all.

"Oh, that's great, Kiku," Ludwig sat up. "Let's take a look?"

Kiku unrolled an A3 piece of paper and showed a spectacular drawing of a figure standing before a crowd. One hand was raised and pointed towards the crowd, and the performer was faced away. There were lights over the crowd's undistinguishable faces and dates for the Talent Show in a bold, bright font. The drawing itself was impressively sketched out. Ludwig and the other four admired Kiku's drawing, whilst his friend puffed from the exertion of running.

"This is great, Kiku," Ludwig took the poster design. "It's cool and not too busy, I'd say. It would certainly catch my eye in the corridor."

Kiku breathed a sigh of relief. "That's excellent. I admit, I was worried that you'd think there was too much to it."

Ludwig nodded as he assessed the picture.

"That's so cool," Tino beamed, looking at the poster.

"W'nt to join us for s'da?" Berwald held one of their cans up. "We're not d'ng anything other than g'ssiping like girls."

Kiku blinked surprised, as all others in the room looked sheepish and guilty, mixed with some embarrassment, before he smiled and took the can from Berwald's hand.

"I would love to join you," he said, and seated himself with them. "I think Fel's on his way down here as well – he got a little side tracked along the way…"

Ludwig nodded and sipped his drink.

 **F.V.**

He had received a call from Lovino and had rushed to answer the phone. Rarely would he call him during the day, so Fel had deemed it very important, even though he had wanted to see Ludwig down at the theatre hall.

The problem was this: Lovino needed to produce the invites before any more time passed, and more importantly, he needed Fel to produce them.

He was on the phone to his brother at that moment, whilst he started designing the invites.

"Where are we having it?" he asked.

"Our house," Lovino replied. "You know our address."

"I do," Fel murmured as he typed that in on the Word document he had open.

He was just sitting in a casual ICT room, getting all the details down before he processed anything.

"What time?" Fel asked.

"When does Papa usually get back?" Lovino asked.

Fel had to think for a moment before answering. "I would say… he usually returns at around three in the morning. He leaves at four in the afternoon."

"Alright – party starts at eight, and ends at two."

Fel made a note of that.

"Food and booze are provided," Lovino continued.

"Alright," he jotted that down as well.

"What else do you put in an invite?" Lovino asked.

"Um… what kind of party it is?" Fel asked.

"House party," Lovino said, and Fel typed in 'casual attire'.

"Did you compile the guest list for me, by the way?" Fel asked.

"Yes, actually," Lovino replied. "I've got it right here."

Fel had to sit through an entire guest list patiently, counting how many names there were. He expected Lovino to handwrite names, rather than him type them all individually, so he only wanted the number of guests so he could count how much invites were needed.

There were still so many preparations for this party, but Fel believed he had plenty of time. The number of guests would confirm how much of everything would be needed. Naturally, he would aim to get more food than necessary, as well as drink, because people liked to eat and drink more when they were having fun.

"Did you get that sound system from Antonio?" Fel asked.

"Yeah, luckily, because he's at uni now," Lovino replied. "He dropped it off before he left."

"That's good," he felt relieved that Lovino had remembered, because they wouldn't have been able to afford a sound system decent enough for music around the house.

"Have you got decorations and shit ready?" Lovino asked.

"Yeah, I've got what I want in mind," Fel went on eBay. "I just need to order everything and then we'll be set. For food, I was thinking finger food, snacks and maybe order a couple pizzas?"

"Sounds good to me," his older brother replied. "If I'm honest Fel, you know more about this than I do, so I'm letting you do the organisation."

"Say, I was wondering," he smiled down the phone. "Would it be OK for Ludwig and Kiku to come along?"

There was a pause. "Will be Kiku be comfortable in that atmosphere?"

"If he's with me and Ludwig then, yes," Fel replied confidently. "I just want to have a couple of my friends there as well…?"

"I honestly don't care," Lovino said. "The more people the merrier, so long as the number doesn't get out of hand."

"I'll be adding an additional two to your guest list, then," Fel smiled to himself.

 **A.J.**

"Basically, I haven't done the work for my additional Math tutoring," he explained to the others and took a seat at one of the computers. "So, I need to look up the answers online."

"You should just ask me to help you some time," Yao said. "I'm good at Maths."

"Yeah, but she'd definitely know if I got outside help," Alfred replied. "I tried to get Matt to _go_ once, but he downright refused. Something along the lines of: this is for _your_ learning benefit, Al and more shit like that."

"You should really take Maths more seriously," Arthur said, logging onto the computer next to his. "Your brother did the right thing refusing to do it for you."

"Yeah, but I hate Math," Alfred replied. "I honestly don't care if I get a U or C, but I most certainly won't be achieving an A. Besides, I can always use the calculator on my phone whenever something else goes wrong."

"Maths is an important skill," Francis said. "It applies to many jobs."

"Jobs I'm not interested in," Alfred replied, and caught sight of Feliciano Vargas sitting by a computer, muttering on the phone.

"Good luck for your future, then," Arthur rolled his eyes. "Don't come begging to my doorstep, because you won't receive any sympathy from me."

"If you do need _help_ , I'm offering," Yao said. "But I would never do it for you."

"Won't Miss Ronan know you've Googled the answers when you don't have the working out?" Ivan asked.

"I'll just tell her I did it on a different sheet of paper," Alfred shrugged.

"She's not stupid," his friend insisted.

Alfred sat up and peered closer at what Feliciano was doing. Francis pulled him down.

"What are you doing?" he hissed furiously.

"I'm just curious," Alfred peered again. "Looks like Vargas is holding a party."

"That we're not invited to," Arthur added. "He doesn't talk to us. Why would he invite us?"

"Because it's a house party," Alfred whispered.

"Stop nosing in other people's business," Ivan checked his school e-mail.

"Oh, did Katyusha get back to you?" Feliciano suddenly asked on the phone, to whoever he was speaking to and Ivan leant closer to listen.

Alfred smirked at him. "You were saying?"

Ivan responded with a smile. "Shut up."

They both subtly read over Feliciano Vargas's guest list – and were both disappointed to see they weren't there.

* * *

 **A/N:** _OK... not sure how this will work because my Internet's been playing up again. However, I will try my utmost hardest to get everything connected and functioning once more! Please bear with me, and that's it for this week! Thank you!_

 _Tino Vainamoinen:_ Finland  
 _Berwald Oxenstierna:_ Sweden  
 _Mathias Kohler:_ Denmark  
 _Lukas Bondevik:_ Norway  
 _Basch Zwingli:_ Switzerland  
 _Roderich Edelstein:_ Austria  
 _Sadik Adnan:_ Turkey  
 _Feliks Lukasiewicz:_ Poland  
 _Lovino Vargas:_ Romano  
 _Antonio Carriedo:_ Spain  
 _Matthew Jones:_ Canada  
 _Katyusha Braginsky:_ Ukraine


	22. Chapter 21

**A/N:** _Would you look at this! A Christmas post of Gakutalia! It must seem I have no life if I'm on for Christmas but consider this a Christmas gift from me to you! Thank you very much for reading Gakutalia in its journey so far!_

 _A quick shout out to **PEPSICOLASHIPPER** for all the wonderful reviews and support for Gakutalia! _

_MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!_

* * *

 **F.B.**

It was Art class once more, and Francis was working alongside Arthur. To "inspire creativity", Mrs Denver had decided to make them paint a piece together. The point of this was to see where people differed and where their similarities were. This was done by being given a template to colour on an A1 canvas. Mrs Denver wanted her students to become accustomed to using painting techniques and styles, so today they were practicing with acrylic paints. The template was a cubist image that had both emotions and numbers drawn in some shapes, whereas others were left blank, for interpretation. Colours were supposed to fitted accordingly and through agreement or compromise.

The number fourteen had been the hardest so far. Francis associated it with dusky rose, whereas Arthur insisted it was a dull maroon. In truth, the colours weren't too far apart, but that was what made them all the more difficult to decide. Neither of them wanted to back down, because they were proud, but they both wanted to get on with the work, because they would only be doing this over the course of three weeks. Mrs Denver had threatened that, failure to finish meant failure to leave, which hadn't sounded too good to any of her students.

"It's bloody maroon," Arthur neared the canvas with his paint covered brush.

Francis gripped his wrist and strained to hold him back. "Don't defile this art with your terrible taste! It's a dusky rose and that's final."

"How does fourteen look like a bloody flower?" Arthur scowled. "It's maroon. Because it is."

"I refuse to accept such a mediocre colour," Francis argued. "Dusky rose is a shade of pink, not a-"

"I know what the colour is," Arthur spat. "I just don't think fourteen has anything to do with that."

"Why do want a dark colour for fourteen?" Francis felt horrified. "If anything, I would choose something bleak for thirteen and twelve, but not fourteen! Fourteen is the number that signals you've escaped the bad luck its predecessor brings!"

"That's utter tripe if I ever heard it!" Arthur made a jab for the canvas, but Francis managed to hold him at bay. "Just – let me – do – this – before – time – runs – out!"

In their desperation, Arthur managed to splodge maroon paint across Francis's cheek. The pair of them recoiled from one another and looked aghast at the hideous red mark on his face.

"What have you done to me, you animal?" Francis touched his face horrified, and his fingers came away dark and stained. "My beautiful face."

"Serves you right for obstructing my way!" Arthur smirked. "Now, as for this fucking canvas…"

Francis dunked his brush in the most unsatisfactory of greens that lay on his palette and wiped his brush across Arthur's upper lip. The pair of them froze once more whilst Arthur realised the horror of Francis's actions.

"You frog eating bastard," Arthur touched his mouth. "What the Hell was that for?"

"You ruin me, I ruin you," Francis said, washing the green colour from his brush. "Now, I'm sure that was enough to convince you to no longer defile artwork with your miserable sense of colours."

As he turned to the canvas, Francis saw Arthur filled in the fourteen space with maroon.

"Mon dieu!" he cried and flew at the canvas, waving his arms about. "Get away, crow, get away!"

"What the fuck are you doing?" Arthur recoiled.

"Saving this while I can," Francis daubed white over the maroon and mixed them together on the canvas, creating a strange shade of pink.

"Now look what you've done, wanker," Arthur glowered at the colour. "That looks hideous."

"I'll admit, it's not the colour I had in mind," Francis frowned and started adding grey. "However, this should make it a little duskier."

"You were saying I had no sense of colour," Arthur retorted, peering over Francis's shoulder. "That looks like brown!"

"It does _not_ look like brown," Francis stepped back and frowned. "Oh – that's brown."

"Here, I know," Arthur walked forwards and started adding blue. "Let's make it purple."

"Idiot!" Francis pulled him back. "Everyone knows mixing brown and blue makes black!"

"Oh, you're right," Arthur said. "That can be changed. Add more blue."

"Then it becomes blue," Francis watched despairingly as Arthur defiled their art project. "We're supposed to be aiming for pink."

"You might be, but I don't give a shit anymore," Arthur said, and dipped his paintbrush in the yellow of his palette.

"What on Earth are you doing?" Francis objected. "That's going to be a disastrous collection of random colours that were mixed together in an ill-fitting manner."

Francis pried Arthur away from the canvas and started painting over in white.

"Well, I don't know about you, but painting everything in tones isn't going to solve the situation," Arthur commented.

"I'm removing your mistakes like the brave martyr I am," Francis sighed.

"If you're going to act like that, I'm going to just have to start my own thing on the opposite side of you," Arthur said, and started painting on the other side of the canvas.

"You know nothing about painting!" Francis cried. "Fine! Whilst my half can be beautiful, yours can be as hideous as those eyebrows of yours."

"Your perception of beautiful is blighted, frog!" Arthur growled competitively as he slapped on random colours.

Francis laughed. "Ohon! It seems I'm a faster painter than you! Perhaps I'll manage to get some done on your side as well."

"Hey, dammit!" Arthur dashed off and then returned with renewed triumph. "I'll just use a bigger brush, then!"

Francis gasped and grabbed a bigger brush of his own. "If you're upgrading, then so am I!"

The two of them started frantically adding colour after colour. For Francis, it became less about staying within the lines, but as getting as many of his favourite colours into the piece before Arthur ruined it with maroons and other morbid tones and shades. He was in a crazed determination, desperately painting and nearing his destination when-

"What are you two doing?" Mrs Denver cried, appearing between Francis and Arthur and wrenching the brushes from their hands. "Paint was meant to be used gradually and delicately, not like a weapon! Because of your rushed behaviour and careless painting, I can hardly say this piece is worth any favourable credit! Not only that, but you've managed to get paint all over yourselves because of it."

"That's hardly fair!" Francis objected. "He put this on my face!"

"He may be trying to sound the adult, but he's the one who retaliated!" Arthur added.

"It doesn't matter who started what," Mrs Denver said firmly. "The fact of the matter is, you actually do have paint all down yourselves, and you need to get cleaned up."

Francis looked down and saw that his apron and shoes were spattered with paint from his rushed behaviour and frantic movements. Other students had started looking at them by now.

Mrs Denver took their palettes and set those aside as well. "Not to mention that the piece hasn't turned out anything like I expected it to…"

Francis dared a glance and was sorely disappointed. Colours had mixed and clashed, so the piece was mainly brown with splotches of blue, green and grey appearing. It was so flat and disgusting that Francis had to tear his gaze away from such a monster and revert to looking down at the floor.

"Go get yourselves cleaned up and then come back here to tidy away the mess you've made," Mrs Denver instructed. "You've only hindered yourselves in doing this."

Both boys nodded and retreated from the classroom.

 **K.H.**

"They're always so noisy," Yao complained to Alfred, who had come over for a little chat despite this being halfway through the class. "Now look at them – they look like idiots."

"I guess they'll always be like that," Alfred agreed as Kiku desperately tried to paint over their chattering. "Francis and Arthur have these moments from time to time, you know."

"Of course I know. I hang out with them, too." Yao.

"Oh, I wasn't saying you didn't know them well, I was just saying that, even when we were very little, they were always bickering about the most pointless of things." Alfred.

"Everyone bickers about something." Yao.

"Yes, but Francis and Arthur have a habit of letting their bickering get the better of them." Alfred.

"You keep commentating as if I haven't noticed this." Yao.

"I know you've probably noticed that." Alfred.

"Then, stop being so patronising." Yao.

"I'm not being patronising." Alfred.

"You are." Yao.

"No, I'm not. You're hearing tones that aren't there."

"Stop acting like you know Arthur or Francis better than you do. You know them just as much as I do." Yao.

"You know, I agree with Yao," Kiku turned to them both and they appeared surprised. "Everyone bickers about something. Please take your conversation elsewhere or cut it where it stands."

"OK," Alfred rolled his eyes a little after staring at him. "I guess I'll just…"

"Eh… how about we go elsewhere?" Yao set his brush aside.

"Good idea," Alfred said, and the pair of them edged towards the other side of the classroom towards Ivan, who, once again, was being told he was "very interesting, very abstract".

Kiku angrily continued painting, annoyed that Yao and Alfred pretended he had been the odd one… If he subtly glanced over, he could see them keeping a slight eye on him as they talked with heads leaned towards one another.

 _Just a couple of gossips,_ Kiku thought irritably, and continued carefully tapping his brush to the canvas to add the delicate pastel colours he saw.

 **A.K.**

He tried to get the green off of his upper lip, but no matter how hard he scrubbed, the faint colour remained.

"Look what you've done to me, wanker," he complained. " _I_ look like the wanker now…"

"I look like I've been in a fight," Francis chuckled, as he tried to remove the relentless reddish purple stain from his face.

Arthur snorted.

"What?" Francis glanced at him with a slight smile.

"Thug Francis," Arthur sniggered.

"You can be my greasy henchman, then," Francis said.

"I'd much rather be the leader," Arthur said.

"If you're going to be the main villain, your name has be Green-stache," Francis said. "As in, Green-stache and Thug Francis."

"I know what you mean – fine Green-stache it is," Arthur said.

"We really messed up, didn't we?" Francis laughed.

"Perhaps so," Arthur replied. "Should we just make an agreement to try and make an image out of the shapes and paint accordingly?"

"Sounds good to me," Francis said. "We can pretend we compromised."

They returned to the classroom, ashen faced, and cleared away the disgusting brown canvas. That took up the rest of the lesson. Mrs Denver surprisingly allowed them to leave, and Arthur put that down to her not wanting to see their faces again.

Ivan was meeting Natalya at the main gates, so needed to hurry off and do that before she got impatient. Alfred needed to go to his Maths clinic with Miss Ronan, so couldn't walk to the gates with them, and Yao had hurried off as usual before his mother got impatient and made him walk home.

That left just Francis and Arthur.

"I don't suppose you'd want to come over to my house?" Francis offered. "I know you've got Peter to get along the way, but it really shouldn't be a problem."

The last time Arthur had been to Francis' house he'd learnt his friend had his own private hot tub, an accessible bar and pretty much millions to spend on excessive things like a Rolls Royce and fountains merely for garden decoration. He had brought Peter around before, and since Francis was unmonitored by his mother (he hadn't seen her at all) then they were free to do whatever they liked.

"Peter honestly wouldn't mind," he laughed. "Thank you. We'd love to come over. I'll just text my mum and let her know…"

The two of them walked along, idly talking, on their way to pick up Peter.

* * *

 **A/N:** _Merry Christmas from the Gakutalia crew!_

Peter Kirkland: _Sealand_


	23. Chapter 22

**A/N:** _Hey all! Thank you for staying with Gakutalia and supporting me for 2015! This is the last chapter of 2015, and it's being posted a little earlier because I'm actually going to Australia tomorrow! It means waking up really early, which I'm not looking forwards to, and roughly a 21 hour flight!_

 _Enough about me, let's get back to Gakutalia!_

 _And have a Happy New Year in 2016 everyone!_

* * *

 **F.V.**

"Hey, Ludwig!" he called down the phone. "You better be ready, because I and Kiku are just on our way to your house!"

"OK – fine," Ludwig sighed. "Are you sure we should do this? I'll just feel a bit like an idiot…"

"I've been waiting for this for so long," Fel complained. "Of course I want to do this! Is Gilbert still coming along?"

There was a pause down the other end of the phone before Ludwig replied. "Um, no. He's been surprisingly busy with uni and… everything. He had to cancel."

"Oh, that's a shame," Fel sighed.

"However, Elizabeta's here right now," Ludwig continued. "She heard we were doing this and wanted to come along. She's brought Roderich along with her."

"Fine by me," Fel grinned. "The more the merrier."

 **A.J.**

"C'mon, Matt!" he called upstairs. "We need to go."

"I'm just putting the final touches on," Matthew replied, panicked.

Alfred tapped his foot impatiently. He had gathered his usual friends in his house and was desperate to go trick or treating. It was Hallowe'en, and he wanted to get as much candy as he possibly could. He also didn't want Matthew preventing him from doing so.

"Don't make us leave without you," he threatened and started opening the front door.

"I-I'm just coming down," Matthew seemed to have changed his mind, and appeared at the top of the stairs. "I'm just about ready."

"Yes, we can finally leave," Alfred grinned and threw open the door.

 **L.B.**

Ludwig patiently waited for Feliciano to get there. He desperately hoped Fel hadn't gone all out with costume, because he sure wasn't about to.

Elizabeta had dropped by on her round of trick or treating. She had told him it was something she liked doing each year, because it revived her childhood memories and also made Roderich that little bit more enthusiastic, even though he didn't appear that way.

Neither had gone for a whole costume, but Elizabeta had stuck matching cat ears on their heads, something that Roderich didn't seem too pleased about.

 _Are they a thing?_ Ludwig wondered whilst they all waited for Fel to get his act together.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. Ludwig arose and answered it to an excitable Fel and Kiku, with Lovino tagging along behind.

"Wow – the pair of you really went all out, didn't you?" he commented.

 **A.K.**

"I'm so glad all of you brought me along," Peter said excitedly. "I absolutely love Hallowe'en – it's one of my favourite times of the year. It means I get to go round other people's houses and get loads of chocolate and sweets to eat later; although, Mum usually monitors me, because she says I shouldn't eat all the chocolate and sweets all at once…"

"Unless you intend to lose your teeth, you ought to listen to Mum," Arthur replied curtly – Peter was beginning to grate on him.

Peter huffed. "I don't care about that."

"You will when you're thirty, toothless and still single," Francis teased. "Not to mention a little round about the belly!"

That was accompanied by a prod to the stomach, whilst the two of them walked ahead laughing. Arthur sometimes found it irritating that Peter and Francis seemed closer than he did. On the other hand, he and Peter's friendship was notably better than Alfred and Matthew's – the two seemed to barely speak.

"Tell me why I'm here," Arthur asked Alfred as they walked along.

"To get the Hallowe'en spirit!" Alfred beamed.

Arthur thought he looked ridiculous in his Batman costume, but wasn't about to say too much on the matter, since his friend was enjoying himself.

Personally, Arthur had chosen to avoid dressing up too much, and had only opted for vampire fangs. Francis had been a little more creative, sporting cat ears, a cat's tail and even paw-like gloves. He wasn't sure how the agreement had come around, but Matthew seemed to have morphed into Robin, acting as Alfred's sidekick. Yao had drawn stitching along himself, like the Creature from _Frankenstein_.

Ivan actually hadn't done anything, but Alfred had refused to let him leave his house until something had been done. As a result, Ivan had been forced to wear a hockey mask of Alfred's. Mr Jones had understandably refused to let Alfred take a chainsaw from the garage, but Ivan seemed prepared with an ominous faucet pipe – Arthur had no idea why he'd been carrying it around, but it only added to the horror look.

As for Peter, he'd been a little pirate. Arthur had absolutely refused to be a pirate alongside him, so Peter had sullenly accepted that answer. He made a good little pirate, but the huge cat beside him looked ridiculous.

Alfred rang the doorbell of the first house and waited excitedly. There was a moment's waiting, and then the door opened to reveal a crabby looking old woman. She squinted at Alfred and her lips pursed.

"Trick or treat!" he cried, oblivious to the sheer hatred that was being directed at him.

"Is it that time of year already?" the old woman grumbled and dropped a mint into his sweet bucket. "One for each of you."

"I think I'll pass," Yao said safely from the back of the queue. "I was under the impression Hallowe'en included chocolate and sweets, but maybe I was wrong, aru."

The old woman glowered at his insolence, and slowly dropped another mint in Arthur's bucket. He watched Peter solemnly and politely take a mint, only to cringe as he assessed it whilst walking away.

Their crowd escaped the old woman's lair.

Ivan popped his mint in his mouth. "They're not that bad."

Everyone who had bothered to get a mint added their mints to his sweet bucket without asking if he even wanted them. He looked at them in disdain, but his earlier comment restricted him from returning them.

"What a bitch," Alfred scowled. "Doesn't she realise little kids like Peter will come knocking at the door?"

"Evidently not," Yao said. "That performance of hers was unsatisfactory. You either go out and get chocolate, or you give chocolate. Not mints. Who wants mints on Hallowe'en? I can always go to my grandma's house and she'll give me a shit tonne of mints, so why do you want them on Hallowe'en?"

"I have to agree with you on that one," Alfred said.

"What is that?" Francis said absently, staring straight ahead at a shape moving in the distance.

It looked like a giant orange blur, but when Arthur looked more closely, it was Feliciano Vargas dressed in a tiger onesie – he looked like Tigger.

Behind him were Elizabeta and Roderich in matching cat ears. Ludwig hadn't dressed up at all, but instead wore a dark coat which made his imposing figure all the more horrific.

"Whoa! Competitors!" Alfred grinned, taking a few steps forward.

"Do we really need to turn this into a competition?" Matthew asked, worried. "I think we should take things a little easy and hope that they don't talk to us – after all, we're all here to enjoy the day, and they probably don't want us to bother them anyway, eh?"

He was flat out ignored.

"Hey, you there!" Alfred yelled, and Feliciano stopped in his tracks and faced Alfred.

"Oh, Alfred," Feliciano said. "You're trick or treating as well?"

"Too right I am," Alfred grinned. "Say, I can make this night more interesting for the both of us!"

"OK – what did you have in mind?" Feliciano looked interested.

"A competition," Alfred announced and the other boy laughed shrilly.

"Sounds good to me," Feliciano grinned.

"Alright," Alfred adjusted his Batman gloves. "If you guys win, you can take all our candy."

"Yeah!" Feliciano beamed. "And if you win, you can have ou-"

"Hang on," Alfred suddenly looked smug. "If _we_ win, we get to go to your party."

"My… party?" Feliciano looked puzzled, until another guy who looked similar to him pushed him aside.

"You mean _my_ party, you bastard!" he yelled. "And we accept the deal – because the only way you asshat fucking losers are going to get into my party is through this bet!"

"O-OK," Alfred looked thrown.

"Wait," a voice piped up, and someone appeared from behind Ludwig. "First of all, we should consider the rules. The amount of candy found should be divided by the number of people in each group, considering there are odd numbers."

The ghostly figure was none other than Kiku Honda, but his hollow eyes and paled complexion had stopped Arthur's heart for a moment. His clothes were ragged and there was a horrific bruising around his neck.

"Dude, what happened to you?" Alfred looked even more thrown.

"Oh, my costume?" Kiku appeared pleased someone had asked him. "My role is a student who has been abominably teased by other students in his school, so in order to find peace he takes a final trip to Aokigahara*."

"Aokiga…?" Alfred looked confused but Yao rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't ask," he warned. "It's just too fucking creepy, aru."

In each group, someone was the allotted sweet carrier. Feliciano was the Sweet Guru of his team, and Alfred for his team.

"We can be the Allied Candies!" Alfred grinned, and then pointed to them. "And you'll be the Axis Chocolates!"

"Sure, sure," Feliciano nodded in agreement.

"You bastards are seriously gonna regret ever fucking with the Axis Chocolates," the other young man said – Arthur believed him to be a relative of Feliciano's. "You're also gonna bawl your fucking eyes out when you lose by a million and can't go to my too cool for a bunch of fucking losers party. We meet back here ten o'clock sharp and if you guys fail to make it on the time date – maybe a five minutes leniency – then you lose."

"Yeah, dude," Alfred's mouth twisted in disdain.

The two parties separated after that.

"Was that really such a good idea?" Arthur complained. "Now you've gambled all our Hallowe'en finds."

"We'll win for sure," Alfred beamed. "There's more of us, and you've also got me, one of the best chocolate finders in this entire country."

"I really question that," Arthur muttered under his breath, but chose not to pursue the subject further, hoping they'd win for Peter's sake.

 **F.V.**

"I'm starting to wonder if that was the best of ideas," Ludwig told the Vargas brothers. "We're outnumbered, and Alfred would put his determination over his friends, I guarantee that."

"We can do this," Lovino said confidently. "They have a child to drag about. That'll slow them down."

"Also, we have the energy to beat them," Fel neared a door and knocked. "Also, we're much cuter than them, so we'll use personal traits to win out."

The door opened to a woman with short hair and glasses. She resembled Alfred and Matthew so much that Fel did a double take at the door.

The woman laughed and reached beside her and started doling candies into Fel's bucket. "Aren't you so cute with all your costumes? You know, my sons have both gone trick or treating today, and they were all dressed up for the occasion."

"Oh, really?" Lovino asked, casually eyeing the amount of candy she just kept putting into the bucket. "I'm glad to hear there are other people our age who take Hallowe'en as seriously."

"It's nice, eh?" the woman smiled, giving Fel candies as she spoke. "I love to see older kids who keep their interest in these things. Anyway, I don't want to keep you from going around – have a happy Hallowe'en."

"Thanks," Fel beamed whilst she gave everyone else a few candies.

The six of them wandered off down the road as a sly smile spread across Lovino's face.

"How much did you get, Fel?" he asked, peering over and adding his sweets to Fel's.

"Tonnes," Fel snickered. "She wouldn't stop giving them to me! I like your stalling tactics!"

"Works like a trick," Lovino took one sweet. "And for that, I think I shall celebrate with a little treat!"

He unwrapped it and a sudden expression of surprise crossed his face.

"Oh! Maple," he blinked. "They're not shit – just different?"

"Are you OK?" Fel glanced at his brother, anxiously.

"If you call suddenly feeling subdued and mellow OK then, yeah, perfectly fine, eh?" Lovino nodded.

"Just leave him to it," Fel whispered to the others, and they continued on their path with the much quieter Lovino.

* * *

*The Japanese 'hanging' forest. It's a sad story, but a lot of people go there to commit suicide. It's taken a very haunted reputation as a result… I feel very sorry for all the people who have felt the need to go there...

Have a great New Year everyone! Until next time!

 _Elizabeta Hédeváry:_ Hungary  
 _Roderich Edelstein:_ Austria  
 _Matthew Jones:_ Canada  
 _Peter Kirkland:_ Sealand  
 _Gilbert Beilschmidt:_ Prussia  
 _Lovino Vargas:_ Romano


	24. Chapter 23

**A/N:** _Hello, everyone! I feel like it's been ages - going to Australia really threw me off kilter! I'm back now, though, and hope to get onto regular posting once again. I'm still a little tired, but I've also started school again, so I suppose I'm just going to have to handle that in my own time! As for Gakutalia, the students are all the way back in October! They haven't even had Christmas yet..._

 _Either way, correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe this is the first post I've made of 2016! Late Happy New Year everyone! New Years is a special day, so I would've posted an extra chapter then, but I was in Australia, and unfortunately didn't bring Gakutalia along with me... As it happens, it feels like centuries since the previous chapter, so I'm quite glad to be getting back onto routine! It's 2016 now, so I hope to keep posting chapters and writing Fics for as long as I can! I've really enjoyed 2015 (even though it's had its many ups and downs) and I really look forward to having another good year! Thank you very much for all your support - to new readers in Gakutalia, and also those who read my previous Fic, Scaretalia. I really love hearing everyone's reviews and seeing just how many people stop by to see what I've written!_

 _Let's have a great 2016 everyone!_

* * *

 **A.J.**

"Seeing as you've waged a candy war on another unsuspecting group of teenagers, what's your plan of action?" Arthur asked. "Not only that, but you've bargained everyone else's gains. What if I'd just been getting in the Hallowe'en mood, only to find my treasure was to be plucked from my very hands?"

"Then I'd know it's total bullshit," Alfred replied. "Because you've been wearing that frown impressively consistently throughout this entire night."

"You know me too well," Arthur rolled his eyes. "However, my question remains: what's your plan of action?"

Alfred allowed a sly smile to spread across his face. "I know there's only one person who carries the candies per group, but I think we can still twist things to our advantage."

"Oh, so we can only win through cheating?" Francis asked.

"No," Alfred rolled his eyes. "Playing to our own advantages. We can split up and collect candy and shit from as many houses as possible. All we need to do is meet back a little before the time, give all the candy to me, and then we've won, because we targeted different areas."

"I can sort myself out here, then," Francis beamed. "I know a good area that will willingly give me candy."

"As long as we target different areas, we'll meet a range of people who will hopefully give us loads of sweets," Alfred grinned. "Yao? Ivan? What do you guys say about this?"

"To be honest, I don't care, as long as I'm getting candy, aru," Yao shrugged. "So I'll go along with it."

"I think this is a bad idea, but if I object, you'll cut down my opinion and pressure me into doing it anyway," Ivan said. "Therefore, I'll hold my tongue."

"A little late, dude, but OK?" Alfred grinned. "Peter, stick with your brother. There's no need for you to be wandering the streets alone."

"I can handle myself," Peter beamed. "I'm a pirate."

"Stick with me," Arthur said. "What time do you think we should meet back here?"

"I'd say roughly ten to," Alfred shrugged. "No later, guys! Seriously! I'm not losing to a bunch of sissies!"

 **F.V.**

They continued their path of going door to door, asking for candies from different people. Whilst no one gave as much candy as Mrs Jones had (she must've been Matthew's mother, what with the maple flavoured sweets and all), they seemed to have been getting quite lucky, either from families who thought Fel looked adorable in his tiger onesie, or families who were impressed by Kiku's costume.

"I think we're doing really well," Fel beamed.

Lovino, who had resumed his usual rude and arrogant self after some ten minutes of walking around in blissful, maple paradise, pulled a face. "I think we could be doing better."

"What's the problem, Lovino?" he asked. "It's not like we lose anything from this bet."

"Other than my pride and vanity, no," Lovino rolled his eyes. "No way do I want a bunch of losers to get to my party. That'd make things lame."

"For me, this is all about friendship and experience," Fel said, smiling to himself. "It doesn't matter whether we win or-"

"That's because it's not your party that's on the line, you shit," his brother scowled.

"Come now, enough fighting," Ludwig intervened, before things became any worse. "We have houses to visit – we're wasting time talking."

"For once, you're right," Lovino rolled his eyes.

"Ja, and the sooner this is over, the better," Roderich grimaced, touching the cat ears that rested on his head.

"Don't be such a whinge," Elizabeta flicked his ears with a grin. "You're enjoying this really!"

He cast a pained glance that told Fel Roderich didn't like this as much as Elizabeta hoped to believe. However, he had stuck around, and seemed inclined to stay longer, so maybe Fel just didn't know him enough.

They continued down the street, knocking at doors and getting candy from all the people they encountered.

 **F.B.**

If there was one thing that Francis had learnt from his days as a young boy, trick or treating alongside his mother, then it was the incomparable amounts of candy that the wealthier families gave. It was down these private roads that Francis had traversed many a day, and if he played the pity card of his poor sister at home with a broken leg, then charm alongside careful, cautious planning, meant he would be earning buckets of candy.

He smiled to himself as he knocked at the first door of an impressive Edwardian style house. Francis Bonnefoy would definitely rack up a lot of sweets for each person.

 **Y.W.**

Traditionally, Yao had never particularly been trick or treating. It wasn't the method of celebration his parents preferred, as they usually stayed home and, although they decorated the house to appear gothic and haunted, they themselves preferred a quieter method of viewing Hallowe'en.

That was why Yao felt a little lost wandering around unfamiliar streets, having followed a direction to nowhere. He felt slightly idiotic walking around alone, but if it meant winning, then he was up for it. Yao had always been competitive.

Hesitantly, he walked up the stairs of one house and knocked at the door. His hand hovered over the doorbell. What if he slipped up somehow and ruined the social protocol of yelling 'trick or treat' with something miserably embarrassing such as 'treat or trick'? If he was ever seen around a particular neighbourhood, then he would be laughed at from afar and seen as that one kid who had no clue how to Hallowe'en.

Yao sighed and rang the doorbell. He patiently waited, and then the door was opened by a young man who looked a little disturbed – he'd probably been enjoying his show, or something.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Trick or treat?" Yao sounded as uncertain as he felt, and berated himself silently for doing so – a blunder had been the one thing he'd wanted desperately to avoid.

For a moment, the young man blinked, and Yao began to wonder if he'd managed to offend him with his poor use of tone. Then, the young man laughed nervously and glanced around the front door.

"Geez – hang on a moment," he said. "I kind of forgot it was Hallowe'en all of a sudden."

He dashed away from the door and returned a second later, holding a plastic tin of sweets, for which he dropped three into Yao's bucket.

"You lose track of time once you're out of school," he sighed. "Sorry about that. Happy Hallowe'en."

"Eh, you as well," Yao said, and trotted down the stairs, hearing the front door close behind him.

 _Heh, what a loser – didn't even realise it was Hallowe'en_ , he smirked to himself, the chance of moral enlightenment being completely and utterly missed. _Trick or treating isn't as hard as I thought._

 **I.B.**

Trick or treating had been going particularly well for Ivan. His current road was filled with elderly people, who found his enthusiasm endearing. He noticed that the elderly, who usually took great pleasure in endorsing children with unconditional love and happiness, provided more sweets than younger people. He was actually beginning to enjoy Hallowe'en, and didn't even mind wearing the stuffy hockey mask.

He knocked on the next door, and it was opened by a friendly little old lady.

"Trick or treat!" he beamed.

"Oh, don't you look wonderful," she chuckled. "It's always so fantastic to see young people dressed up and going around on this day. It always reminds me when I used go around with my grandson; you know, you actually remind me quite a lot of my grandson."

"Oh?" for some reason, this interested Ivan, because most other elderly people hadn't compared him to their family.

"Yes, I really think it's the expression you're wearing," she smiled, her eyes faraway in some distant place. "When he was a lot younger, he would wait by the door until I was ready, and he would say 'Grandma, grandma, we need to go'. It was all very sweet, and you're wearing that same look, right now."

He didn't know whether she meant the look of excitement or the Jason getup, but chose not to ask.

"He's around your age now," she continued. "Probably a little older, because he's in one of those universities now, preparing for the real world. It really is amazing how you can see one person change so much during their lifetime."

Ivan chose to focus on the still life picture behind her head that hung delicately on her wall whilst she spoke, drifting out of the real world and only just listening to her words…

 **A.K.**

"My feet are beginning to get sore from all this fast paced walking around," Peter complained. "Can we pause for a moment?"

"I don't see why not," Arthur replied. "We can even take a break on the pavement. It's not the ideal place to sit, but if you want to rest your feet…"

Peter plonked himself on the sidewalk and breathed out a sigh. His breath came out like a puff of smoke. Arthur sat beside him and raised his head to the darkened skies. The air was chilly, but it was a nice night out.

"I'm really excited about how this competition's going to turn out," Peter said.

"Aren't you worried that our team might lose?" Arthur frowned. "You'd lose all your chocolate, then."

"Don't worry – I can put on a brave face and accept what happens," Peter beamed. "I'm fourteen, after all. It's not like I'm a little kid anymore."

 _You have no idea,_ Arthur thought, looking at his little brother. Although he really was fourteen, Peter still had the capacity to act as naïve as a ten year old. He wasn't the strongest of people, so Arthur believed he wouldn't be able to 'put on a brave face' if they faced a loss.

"We can always back out," he said. "Alfred would understand."

"I told you that I can handle a little loss," Peter insisted. "It's only chocolate and sweets. I can get those any time I want."

"Only if you're certain," he mumbled.

"I'm positive," his little brother said, and stood up. "Besides, I trust Alfred. I really think he can help us win this. Although a party doesn't particularly appeal to me, it's the winning I care about."

Arthur heard the distant noise of a car approaching and turned his head to lights at the far end of the road. Standing, he pulled Peter to his feet and stepped back, just to make sure the big black vehicle – it must've been a Hummer H2 SUV – didn't hit them, or something.

"That's an impressive-" Peter began, but never finished his sentence.

The Hummer suddenly turned on its course and headed straight towards them. Arthur dashed to the side, holding firmly onto Peter's arm and the Hummer almost crashed into the fence behind them.

"Are they drunk or something?" he complained, turning halfway to see the car reversing with a jerk – only to then face them with horrible accuracy.

Arthur's heart skipped a wild beat. Without hesitation, he pulled Peter along and ran down the side of an alley, just as the car sped towards them. He ducked down into safety, where the Hummer couldn't reach them. He saw the menacing vehicle shoot past the alleyway, just where they'd been standing.

He and Peter stood in terrified silence as his brain tried to come up with a rational solution; however, only one conclusion remained firm in his mind.

"Are they trying to kill us?" Peter whimpered, wide eyes trained on the mouth of the alleyway.

Desperately, Arthur reached for his phone, only to stop dead. He'd recently been sharing Peter's phone, ever since his had gone missing (he couldn't quite remember what had happened to it).

"Peter, did you bring your phone?" he whispered.

Peter frowned. "No, I thought you… oh wait, you don't have yours anymore, do you?"

"No," Arthur said, and heard something he hadn't wanted to hear.

The slamming of a car door.

* * *

 **A/N:** _Perhaps Arthur's 2016 could've started a little better? I like living on the wild side, so let's just start this year filled with action! Hope you enjoyed the chapter and if you want to leave a comment, go ahead! Because I absolutely love hearing what people have to say about Gakutalia! Thank you, and until next time!_

 _Peter Kirkland:_ Sealand  
 _Matthew Jones:_ Canada  
 _Lovino Vargas:_ Romano  
 _Roderich Edelstein:_ Austria  
 _Elizabeta Hédeváry:_ Hungary


	25. Chapter 24

**A/N:** _Hey, everyone! Sorry for the late post, but I was at this rocking party last night! I was a +1 to an eighteenth birthday party, and I must admit, I had just a good time! I can't feel my feet, though, but I suppose that's an indication I had a good time dancing! I'm sorry for having neglected my duties as a FanFiction writer, but this really was an awesome party! I always love to get my dancing shoes on when I can! Also, the hosts (they were twins) were just lovely - I didn't know either of them, but one of them would stop by every now and then and he would just make sure all his guests were happy and having a good time! You know it's a good party when almost everyone's on the dance floor, and they don't leave until the DJ has to go for his next gig! I was extremely thankful they let me on the guest list, because there was like 200 people there! I'm usually a bit introverted (and don't get outside enough) but this really was an experience for me and I would definitely go again if I could repeat the night! There's nothing like a little going out on a Friday night to live it up a little! Thank you for you patience!_

 _Also, thank you for 4,000 views! Wow! That's a lot of people who've dropped by to read Gakutalia, and I really appreciate that. Thank you for all your support and I'm having an amazing time writing this Fic, so I hope everyone's enjoying reading it! Thank you so much for all the reviews so far, and, without further ado, here is the next chapter!_

* * *

 **I.B.**

He didn't know how it had happened, but he was sitting inside the old woman's lounge with a cup of hot tea in his hands, listening to the life story of this grandson that so resembled his personality. It was the moment when she'd started to worry about him standing there for so long, but was reluctant to end their conversation – for Ivan had amiably kept the flow of words going through with the odd response every now and then. She had invited him inside to get warm, and he, being Ivan, had been unable to refuse the offer of someone in need of his company.

He didn't know how the expressionless hockey mask reminded the old woman of her grandson, but his only belief was that her grandson was involved with some kind of criminal organisation. Either way, it was difficult to breathe in if worn for too long (in his opinion) so he'd pushed it up from his face.

Ivan raised his head and saw that the time had somehow flown to be quarter to ten. His first instinct was to stand and dash out the door, but the old woman was still talking, and she must've been desperate for company to spill the entire life story of her grandson to a complete stranger. His second, more ethical instinct was to sit there and listen, maybe send a text to Alfred explaining the fate that had befallen him.

His third instinct was having no idea what to do. He didn't want to betray either the old woman or Alfred. He knew Alfred would be completely broken if Ivan caused them to lose by being late, but at the same time, the guilt of abandoning a lonely soul was too much to-

"Is that the time already?" the old woman glanced at the clock. "Gosh, it's late! Your parents have certainly raised a wonderful boy, since you've listened to me all night long. For that, why don't you have this?"

She stood and crouched by her fridge. Ivan waited patiently whilst she rummaged around, only to return and place a chocolate bar in his hands. It was a large chocolate bar, and Ivan wasn't sure he could take something that big.

"Oh, wow," he blinked.

"Thank you very much," the old woman said, guiding him to the door. "It's been wonderful having someone to talk to. I don't get visited often, and the only thing I really have in common with either of my neighbours' cats... I've kept you too long; your family are probably wondering where you've been."

"It was lovely talking to you," Ivan smiled, and took several paces away from the door.

"Don't eat too much chocolate," the old woman called after him with a mischievous smile on her face.

"I won't," Ivan promised, and she closed the door.

Checking his phone, he was seriously pushing the time limit. However, he knew a cut through that would bring him straight to the area of meeting. Ivan dashed across the road and headed there in a light jog, pushing the mask back down on his face to keep the cold wind from burning his skin.

 **Y.W.**

He counted the large amounts of chocolate he had collected from different houses and families. He had done well this Hallowe'en. Checking the time, Yao frowned, seeing the clock read quarter to ten. He was supposed to be at the meeting place in five minutes. If he thought right, then he was more than five minutes walking distance. He had traversed moderately far in the course of the evening.

Yao chose to do the sensible thing. He whipped out his phone and texted Alfred he'd taken a wrong turning and would thus be late. It was OK to lie every now and then.

Without waiting for Alfred's reply, Yao already started running in the direction he was supposed to be headed.

 **F.B.**

Francis only thought to check the time when he reached the end of the street. Blanching when he saw it was quarter to; Francis did the only sensible thing he could think of. He dialled a number, and lifted his phone patiently to his ear, standing on the side of the road.

 **A.J.**

When he received Yao's text, Alfred began to worry. He hadn't noticed before, but it was already nearing the time he should've been meeting the others. He'd been so absorbed in collecting candy that he'd barely paid any notice to what was happening around him.

If there was one thing Alfred didn't want happening, then that was turning up late to a meeting point he'd arranged. That would just be embarrassing. He was the hero after all.

Like the Dark Knight he was dressed up to be, Bat-Alfred swished down the road in a hurried attempt to reach the meeting point before anyone else could.

 **A.K.**

There were many things pressing on Arthur's mind, but reaching the meeting place in time was not one of them. Desperately, he pulled Peter out of the other side of the alleyway, and into another street lit by tall, towering lights, their yellow spotlights burned into the road and pavement.

Arthur could feel the sweat on his palms. He was terrified for Peter's sake, but also because he didn't have a reasonable explanation as to why some people would be trying to run him down.

"Come on, I think we can avoid them," he said, dashing into the darkened areas of the streets.

Peter nodded, remaining silent. Glancing over his shoulder, Arthur saw two burly men clad in black exit from the other side of the alleyway. His heart skipped a beat and he disappeared around another alleyway with Peter.

"Arthur, we need to get to a phone or the police," Peter worried.

"I know," Arthur agreed. "I just don't know how…"

They passed into the next street, which was empty. Arthur was trying to get a visual picture of the area in his head, but the dark setting and his panic made it difficult to concentrate and pinpoint a good location. He could ask a random person for a phone from their house, but stopping stationary risked more people's lives as well as their own.

The street was suddenly lit up with light. Arthur turned his head, only to have his retinas burned by the Hummer. With a shout, he ran across the road, whilst the Hummer performed a U-Turn in the middle of the street and stopped dead before the closest alleyway. Whoever was driving the Hummer sounded the horn, momentarily deafening Arthur. He saw the two men come running at the sound.

Arthur grimaced and dashed backwards, dragging a distressed and tearful Peter along with him. He wasn't sure how, but he managed to duck behind another building without getting shot (that was assuming these men had guns), and raced down it.

He collided with someone, and staggered backwards, hearing the clattering of a device. A phone skidded to his feet. He raised his eyes and saw two sunken holes where eyes were expected to be.

Peter uttered a cry of terror, and Arthur stepped in front of him before his senses returned to him. Ivan pushed his mask up onto his head with a concerned expression on his face, as he stooped to pick up his scraped phone.

"Ivan," Arthur breathed in relief. "Ivan, we need to go."

Ivan blinked as Arthur started pushing him along. "This is the wrong way – and we're already late."

"Not important," Arthur insisted, although Ivan was a big guy and not easy to push when resisting.

"Hold it, hold – kid," someone coughed from behind.

Arthur froze and saw a gun aimed straight at him. The owner of the gun was a slightly short man. He had dark hair and was relatively young, a light stubble growing across his face. He was moderately well built, and on his wrist there was an expensive watch. In his other hand, a burning cigarette wafted smoke into the air. Behind him stood two men of incredible stature.

"You know we're onta you," the man said. "An' that's fine – but put down the act an' jus' come along, right? Show's over, right, kid?"

"What are you talking about?" Arthur asked, shaking in the cold.

The man pushed his sunglasses down and assessed him carefully. "Whad am _I_ talkin' 'bout? I'm talkin' 'bout you, kid, right?"

"What do you want with me?" Arthur frowned. "I have a bit of cash – like, maybe a few quid. It's not much, but…" he pulled it out of his pocket. "…it's on offer."

The man spat on the ground and laughed, glancing at his colleagues, whose shoulders shook with amusement, although their eyes showed no emotion. Then he turned his head back and assessed Arthur coldly, his demeanour changing in the flip of a coin.

"No jokin' round with me," he said. "I don't do withat kinda jokin'. C'mon, kid. Come quietly an' you might jus' live a little longer…"

"Wait, what do you want with _Arthur_?" Ivan asked, just as confused as Arthur was.

The man's gaze settled on Arthur's friend, and his eyebrows rose on his forehead. His mouth opened and closed, whilst he seemed to consider Ivan, standing a little behind.

"You, kid, your name?" he asked him.

"Me?" Ivan pointed to himself.

"Aw, stuff it – I already know," he took a drag on his cigarette, gun still aimed at Arthur's head. "We was plannin' on takin' the rest of you anyway. All three jus' come along. Ransoms are pretty good for gettin' quick cash from those who care."

"I don't get it," Arthur worried. "Why do you want me?"

"We jus' wanna ask a few questions," the man replied. "Thassall. Nothin' else. As a matter a fact, it won't even take long – answer me an'-"

Arthur watched as a fantastic Maybach Landaulet suddenly rammed into the side of the Hummer. The bigger vehicle tilted and collapsed from the sudden impact of the other with a loud groan. The Maybach, its front completely crumpled from the impact, skidded backwards and drove on.

"Fucker!" the man screamed, running to investigate his car.

Ivan was the first to react. He pulled out the metal faucet and lobbed it straight at their opponents, catching one of the large men straight across the head, sending him staggering backwards. The three students took the blissful opportunity of some drunk passer-by to run as fast as they could.

 **A.J.**

"Where the Hell are they?" Alfred scowled, standing in the cold with Yao and Matthew.

The only person to not arrive late had been Matthew, and he was already getting impatient from having been left standing for about ten minutes until Yao finally arrived.

"This is getting ridiculous, Alfred, I'm going home," he'd clearly had enough by now. "I'm cold – I'm tired – and I never wanted to be part of your competition anyway. I left home today really hoping I could enjoy myself trick or treating, but you always have to make things way too complicated."

"Wait, Matthew, if you leave, then we'll have-"

"It's all about your competition, see?" Matthew huffed. "I'm leaving. What I've collected is for myself."

He started storming away.

"Matthew, wait!" Alfred called.

"I'll see you later…" his brother muttered as he walked away.

"That went well," Yao frowned.

"Geez, where the Hell are they?" Alfred scowled, scrolling through his contacts. "I'll call Ivan because Arthur doesn't even have his phone."

"Look, aru, we're going to have to leave soon if we want to reach the meeting point in time," Yao winced. "I know that'll really put us at a disadvantage, but it's better than being late."

"Just give them a little longer," Alfred said. "Damn – he's not picking up."

 **I.B.**

Ivan had no idea what he'd gotten himself into, but he sure wouldn't be kicking the bucket to answer a phone call from Alfred. He promptly ignored it.

He was sad to leave his precious faucet behind – which he'd found with his father when he was a lot younger – but duty had called and he'd wanted to protect his friend and his friend's kid brother.

The drunk-driver car had provided them with the opportunity to escape, which they'd done, although he doubted it would last, what with the enemies being less than a mile away.

There was a whirring engine from down the street, and Ivan wondered if the game was over until they saw the very same Maybach from before racing down the street, fully functioning despite its crumpled front. They crowded on the side of the road and watched in terrified silence as the car stopped before them.

The door was pushed open, and Francis looked at them with a set mouth and a concerned expression in his eyes.

"Get in," he ordered, and nobody hesitated to clamber into the car.

* * *

 **A/N:** _I hope I did not disappoint with a late chapter! Very sorry for it's lateness! I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and thank you for all your support once more! I'm really honoured 4,000 people have stopped to look at Gakutalia! Until next time!_

 _Matthew Jones:_ Canada  
 _Peter Kirkland:_ Sealand


	26. Chapter 25

**A/N:** _Hey all! Another week has just flown by, in my opinion! I'm forecasting a relatively relaxed weekend for me! Also, it tried to snow in England, but didn't quite manage to successfully do it... It was snowing a lot in Norway, though! Hope everyone (who experienced snow) made the most of it, because it was about a centimetre thick for me and was gone by the time I left school..._

 _Without further ado, the next chapter of Gakutalia!_

* * *

 **A.K.**

He was squashed in between Peter and Ivan in the back, whilst Francis remained in the front with some kind of chauffeur.

"Francis, what are you doing here?" Arthur asked, alarmed.

"I was on my way to the meeting point, when I saw that car trying to run you and Peter down," he explained. "We needed to get the car round, whence our late arrival. What was going on? I didn't know you had mobsters chasing after you, Arthur."

"Honestly? I have no idea," he sighed in response. "They wanted information, but I don't know what kind. As far as I'm concerned, my family's not involved with anything."

"I've been informed that some shady characters have been in the area," Francis said. "I'm usually one of the first to know, since I could be used for monetary blackmail. However, I'd have never expected them to come after the three of you."

"Thanks," Arthur said drily, but then glanced to the side. "He seemed to know you, though, Ivan. Have you met him before?"

"Never in my life," Ivan swallowed. "However, I'm definitely bringing this up to my dad. I like to think he's not making enemies with gangs and whatever…"

"Maybe our parents have both wronged the Mafia," Arthur joked, and Ivan returned his smile. "We'd have to go into hiding in some miserable little island in a cold place like Scotland and become shepherds."

"It needs to be a place with no internet, as well," Ivan replied. "Peter would have to come, and probably Francis, too, since they've seen too much."

"This isn't funny," Francis said seriously. " _Ils sont dangereux_! They could easily make you disappear."

"What do you suggest we do, then?" Arthur rolled his eyes. "Take up arms against them?"

Francis threw his hands up in frustration. "I don't know! You need to hide yourselves, that's what! Or find protection from someone."

The car suddenly swerved to the side and Francis sat bolt upright and faced forward. The Hummer had appeared out of nowhere, and was tailing the Maybach closely.

" _Merde_ …" Francis hissed under his breath. "Can you go any faster? Can you keep going for much longer?"

The chauffeur nodded, and accelerated the car considerably further. However, the Hummer remained close, never out of sight. In the rear mirror, England saw the window of the passenger seat start rolling down.

"They're doing something," he said, and Francis glanced over his shoulder.

"Everyone duck!" he cried.

Rather than argue, Arthur threw his head down, just as a loud cracking filled his ears. Shards of glass sprinkled across his back and head, but also showered the front of the car. The front mirror exploded into broken glass, spilling into the front seats as the Maybach continued along its path. The chauffeur drove on, remaining completely still, and seemed unaffected. Arthur was slightly awed that Francis was expert in some situation like this.

"They're shooting at us!" Peter wailed, unable to fight back further tears.

"It'll be fine, Peter," Arthur tried a smile, but he really wasn't sure what their survival chances were.

The Maybach took a swift turn down a narrow street designed only for walking. They bumped, jostled and even scraped the sides of the car, taking one of the side mirrors off. It was evident that there was little concern for money in Francis' family, considering the car alone cost nearly nine-hundred grand. The scraped and battered Maybach Landaulet crawled out of the pedestrian street, and turned, ruined, into yet another open street.

"If you can just keep it up a little longer," Francis urged, and his chauffeur nodded.

"Do you have something planned or something?" Arthur stressed.

"I don't know," Francis glanced over his shoulder, hair whipping around from the wind that now reached them. "It depends if we survive or not…"

"It's one of those plans, then," Arthur sighed. "I really hope we live to see it."

"I'm so scared," Peter burst out crying. "I don't want to die."

Arthur looked at his brother in pity, and then ruffled his hair awkwardly. "You're not going to."

Just then, Ivan's phone began to ring.

"Oh, it's Alfred," he said, and answered it.

 **A.J.**

"Took you long enough to answer," Alfred ranted. "Where the Hell are you guys? You're so late even Matthew left."

"Hmm, I think you should go without us…" Ivan sounded uncertain.

"What the… dude, what?" Alfred gawked down the phone. "Is there any reason for your excessive lateness, or are you just gonna do a no show?"

"It's not that," Ivan protested. "It's more like the forty per cent – no? Thirty? Lower? OK, the twenty-five per cent chance of survival we've got at the moment."

"What are you going on about?" Alfred frowned. "The longer you take, the less chance you have of surviving, that's all you need to know. Now, get your asses to the place where we're meeting the Axis Chocolates. You've wasted enough of our time, and it's nearing five minutes past, which is so close to their final _final_ deadline."

"Alfred, I don't care what you're going to do," Ivan said. "I'm concerned about the car chase I'm currently in, da?"

"What?" Alfred blinked and laughed. "Nice, dude, but if you're going to make excuses for being late, at least _try_ to be believable."

"Oh, I'm being serious," Ivan said. "We're being chased down by a bunch of mobsters in a Hummer, and I can tell you, their guns are not something I want to face right now."

"You're saying 'we'," Alfred pursed his lips. "Who's with you?"

"Francis, Arthur and Peter," Ivan replied.

"Should've known," he sighed irritably. "Well, you know what, guys? Thanks. Thanks for _ruining our chances of winning_."

Alfred held the phone away from his ear and hung up.

"Whoa! What's going on, aru?" Yao asked.

"Bunch of assholes – pissing around and then making up a lot of bullshit," Alfred muttered. "Let's just go… Might as well be man enough to be there for our defeat…"

 **I.B.**

"He hung up," Ivan said, unimpressed. "Oh, well, I have bigger things on my plate right now – like living."

"Just leave Alfred to his own," Arthur said. "He'll be mad over nothing and then get over it."

"I thought he'd believe me," Ivan admitted. "I thought he loved all that conspiracy shit?"

"He usually does," Francis replied. "Perhaps he's stressed because he'll lose for sure, now?"

There was another gunshot from behind, but no bullets reached their car. In terror, all in the Maybach ducked or lowered their heads enough to remain safe. There was another gunshot, but the chauffeur had opted for driving in a curved line – this second bullet missed the car.

There was a third gunshot, but once more, the bullet missed completely.

"One of you take a quick look to see if they're gaining," the chauffeur mumbled.

Ivan raised his head briefly, but ducked quickly when he heard another bullet. The Hummer was gaining on them, and was much closer than he'd thought. There was a stinging on his cheek. He touched his face and found it hot from where the bullet had lightly brushed against his skin. He wiped his trembling hand on his jeans with a grimace, but the adrenaline pumping through his body stopped him shutting down in fear.

"No more of that," the chauffeur decided, seeing him in the rear mirror.

In one swift movement, the chauffeur spun the wheel of the Maybach, turning the car around completely. The Hummer skidded and veered to the side, crashing through a fence and hitting a tree. It stopped clumsily whilst the Maybach sped away down the road, once again successful of outmanoeuvring the Hummer. Francis wore an anxious expression on his face as the chauffer calmly drove on. Ivan wiped the blood from the minor wound, but glanced and saw Peter staring at him with wide, frightened eyes.

"It's OK," he smiled.

"See? Ivan's fine, so we'll be fine," Arthur wiped his brother's tears away gently, clearly concerned for his brother's life.

There was a terrifying roaring of an engine behind them. Ivan dared to look at the rear view mirror, and saw the Hummer furiously powering towards them as they entered another main road, deserted for the night. The chauffeur skilfully turned the Maybach with no effort, but the awesome speed of the Hummer eradicated their chance of using any more tactical movements – they'd only cause a car crash that the Hummer, being the bigger vehicle, would survive from.

"What are they doing now?" Francis looked horrified as the Hummer began to speed after them.

It rammed the back of the Maybach, forcing the boot to dent and crumple. Another hit sprung the boot open.

"They're breaking us up!" Ivan cried.

Just then, a police siren sounded.

"Police?" Arthur frowned. "Wait, Francis – you called the police?"

"Yes," Francis looked relieved. "Thankfully, they're here."

The police car, smaller than the other two, could move faster, and did so, rounding up towards the Hummer. The menacing black car insisted on going faster at this stage, until it ended up sandwiched between the police car and the Maybach. With vicious power, the Hummer's driver swerved the vehicle to the side, connecting with the side of the Maybach and sending them spiralling off in the other direction. The chauffeur struggled to keep control of the car as the Hummer sped off out of sight.

Rather than try and keep driving, the chauffeur allowed the car to reach a stop. They sat there in silence. Nobody said a word.

 **Y.W.**

"Looks like we win, you bastards!" the older guy jeered, juggling their candy buckets in his arms. "No candy, no party – losers."

"C'mon, Lovino," Fel smiled. "Let's be a little nicer?"

"Fuck no," Lovino answered. "We won this fair and square as well! We didn't even need to cheat!"

"Yeah, well, whatever," Alfred rolled his eyes. "Wouldn't want to go to your lame party anyway…"

"Total lie," Lovino pulled faces at them. "Otherwise you wouldn't have asked in the first place! Most of your members bailed out in fear of the amazing Lovino Vargas. You suck, bastard losers."

"OK, can you stop now?" Yao scowled.

"Suck, suck, suckers!" Lovino continued.

"Well, we're leaving," Ludwig mumbled. "I'd say good game, but I don't think it went very well for you."

"No," Alfred replied sourly.

Kiku flashed Yao a slight smile that he interpreted as ' _I won, and you lost, but neither of us will speak due to our past and our natures, therefore, this smile is a token of my boasting_ '.

He watched the others turn and walk away before facing Alfred. "That was miserable."

"Too right it was," Alfred whined. "Let's just go the fuck home."

"I agree," Yao sighed. "What a waste of my time!"

 **A.K.**

They sat in the police office, miserable, cold, tired and desperate to go home. There had been no serious injuries – they were extremely lucky. He and Ivan had just undergone extreme police questioning, and whilst Francis was going through his turn, the pair of them were trying to cheer up Peter.

"This has been the worst day of my life," the boy sobbed. "Not only have I lost a little competition, as well as all my candy, we all nearly died!"

"It's fine, Peter," Arthur tried to soothe him. "We're all alive, and everything's fine."

"Eh, I gotta return this to Alfred," Ivan looked at the hockey mask in his hands. "He was super pissed at me, and I don't think my responses helped."

Peter swallowed, but continued to look miserable. The mobsters had escaped, and none of them had so far been able to provide sufficient details or how they were involved. All they'd earned was police protection, which Arthur thought was really good, considering his situation.

"Look, try not to be too disheartened," Arthur said to his brother as Ivan chose to call his father and explain where he was. "Here."

He stood and approached a vending machine. He used some of the coins he had to pay for a bag of chocolate buttons, which he brought back to his brother.

"Cheer up – we got through today, and we'll get through tomorrow," he promised his brother. "Have these."

Peter sniffed. "For me?"

"Of course," Arthur sat beside him, just as Ivan returned sighing.

"My dad will be here soon," he explained. "What about you guys? You want a lift?"

"Eh, I'm sure-"

"I insist," Ivan smiled. "Take a lift."

"Well, OK, then," Arthur said, just as he received a nudge in his side.

He turned his head and saw Peter offering a button towards him. He allowed his mouth to turn upwards as he took it, and watched Peter do the same to his friend, sharing the buttons around.

They were alive, and that was what mattered. It wasn't important that they'd lost a competition, and it definitely wasn't important that they couldn't go to some party none of them had ever been particularly riled by. It only mattered that they had lived through that ordeal, and it even made sense when Francis told them to "keep quiet" about it.

Arthur was just glad to put it all in the past, and he was just as glad that Peter was fine…

* * *

 **A/N:** _I love heart-warming ends, and I hope everyone else loves them, too! Thank you very much for reading Gakutalia and hopefully everyone liked it! If you want, leave a comment because I love hearing what people have to say! Until next time!_

 _Peter Kirkland:_ Sealand  
 _Matthew Jones:_ Canada  
 _Lovino Vargas:_ Romano


	27. Chapter 26

**A/N:** _Sorry for the late post, everyone! I was very tired this week and a little slower than usual. I also had my first driving test, and hit the brakes instead of the clutch, so that was a fun experience! I'm a lazy person, I know! Please don't hate me because here is the next chapter! Please enjoy!_

* * *

 **A.J.**

It was a slow start to the term once more. After the events of Hallowe'en, Alfred had taken quite some convincing from Ivan until he eventually gave up trying to know the truth and merely accepted that they had lost, and that he was late. However, his ambition to play music had considerably fallen, and the three of them were just lounging around, whilst Francis sat at his desk as per usual.

Alfred hadn't spoken much to Arthur since they'd returned. He'd barely seen the other boy. He was either doing English coursework, or was busy with "other stuff", for which he wouldn't elaborate when asked. Alfred had asked Ivan and Francis whether anything had happened, but neither seemed inclined to give any information: both said "I don't know". He'd tried speaking with Arthur at lunch, but most lunchtimes Arthur was in a meeting with Miss Morbrey. He knew his friend wanted to succeed in the particular subject, but the last thing he wanted was to see Arthur overwork himself.

"Why are you all just sitting around?" Roderich sighed, setting the violin down and sending them all pointed looks. "You have five weeks including this one. That, and none of you can be considered musicians…"

"We're so tired," Yao yawned. "We had stressful half terms, aru."

"How did your concert go?" Ivan asked.

Roderich raised an eyebrow, but seemed to accept no progress would be made today. "It was actually very good. I was inspired to compose my own piece, but it was so badly written that I had to discard it and pretend it had never existed… Ah, well, such is life. I'm back to square one, but there are still good memories…"

"Good memories?" Ivan smiled. "As in, sharing a room with Elizabeta?"

"What?" Roderich turned on him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, aren't you two a thing?" he asked.

Alfred inhaled deeply but silently, and saw Yao and Francis freeze in their current positions. The year had made it an unspoken rule to never ask Elizabeta or Roderich whether they were dating. It just wasn't done. No one had dared approach that subject, should that not be the case, or the potential of damaged friendships, despite the two of them hanging around one another all the time. Everyone believed there was something going on between them, but no one was allowed to speak it. Ivan had just broken the unspoken rule.

Alfred expected Roderich to go red and rant or some other reaction that indicated either denial, fury or embarrassment, but instead he sighed and shook his head.

"For someone so practical, you can be so immature," he sighed. "Ivan, someone needs to tell you that men and women can share a room without being obliged to spark some form of a relationship. Myself and Elizabeta are good friends and have been through childhood – besides, we shared a hotel room that had two bedrooms."

"Oh," Ivan nodded.

For something that had had such a huge reputation, Roderich's reaction was an anti-climax. However, Alfred wasn't in the mood to have their musical instructor blowing off in all directions about relationships.

"Wow – I can't believe you guys thought myself and Elizabeta were dating," Roderich chuckled.

Yao, who was hidden safely by his position behind Roderich, cast Alfred and Ivan an incredulous stare.

"You don't necessarily have to be in a relationship to have-" Francis begun, but Roderich cut him off before he could finish his sentence.

"I don't want to know what you would do to a girl if you happened to share a room with her," he scowled. "But I most certainly am able to keep my hands off women – and more importantly, preserve my friendship with Elizabeta."

"But, have you never looked at her and thought, 'maybe, yes'?" Alfred prompted, suddenly confident enough to discuss the unspoken topic with him.

"No," Roderich replied instantly. "Elizabeta… she's… well, you know."

"What, aru?" Yao asked, preying on his hesitation.

"Like family," Roderich said lamely, and then bristled. "If you think I hold feelings like _that_ for her, then you're _wrong_."

"OK, OK," Alfred held up his hands. "I'm suddenly in the mood to learn more music, right guys?"

His bandmates and manager took the hint, and nodded in agreement. Roderich nodded, seemingly relieved by their answers, and lifted the violin to his chin once more.

"Then we shall proceed," he announced.

 **L.B.**

Some being of benevolence had allowed the parts for the stage setup to arrive, ready for use. Instantly, Berwald and Matthias had set to work, putting it together, whilst Tino enthusiastically drew up design plans with Kiku, who joined them when he could. Matthias helped Ludwig with organisation, as well as an announcement to attract more students to the event. Fel's main job was to stay out of the way and amuse himself.

The only person currently not present was Lukas, and that was because he was supposed to be working on his art project.

"I think it's going good so far," Ludwig said. "But we'll call it a break for today. We're still missing some things, but those should arrive soon."

"I think it looks really good," Eduard von Bock said, who'd come to visit Tino.

 _I do, too,_ Ludwig thought to himself, although some part of him suggested his opinion was little subjective.

 **A.K.**

The scene was replaying in his head. The fear of being in a car that suddenly had no windows, the glass sprinkling over his head and back, the horror as the Hummer smashed into the boot of the Maybach, sending vibrations through his body.

That man also remained in his head, the one who wore sunglasses and had held him at gunpoint. He remembered the way he spoke, the way he had critically assessed Arthur, Ivan and Peter and had been more than prepared to kill all three of them if they had tried to run.

Information. The man had wanted to ask him questions, but Arthur didn't know what he knew that the man didn't. If anything, the man was more aware of the situation than he was. He ran his hands through his hair, his coursework almost complete. He just needed to run through the last few drafts, and then he could deem it fine.

"Hey, like, what'cha doing here?" Feliks asked, sitting beside him.

They were in the library as usual. Arthur was in his spot, at the computer where he always conducted his research and private studies. Feliks logged onto the computer next to him and instantly opened that trashy news site he was always on.

"I'm just thinking…" Arthur admitted – for some reason, you could just talk to Feliks.

"You know, I, like, totally heard this, like, seriously vicious rumour about you," Feliks said. "And I, like, really need to know… since we totally talk and all…"

"What is it?" Arthur asked. "Who's been spreading rumours about me?"

"Rumours are totally untraceable," Feliks replied, eyes glued to the screen as he flicked through several articles. "I don't know. But I heard that you were the student involved with Mr Vurkel, and since you were, like, trying to find out about him the other day, I, like, kinda wanted to know…"

"That's utter bollocks!" Arthur exploded, and received a withering glare from Ms Olsey. "Sorry. It really is a rumour – there was nothing between me and Mr Vurkel."

"If you say so," Feliks shrugged. "It's just, like, the rest of the student body totally believes it was you instead of Basch now… I was totally convinced, from the beginning, that it wasn't you."

"Hey, Feliks, I've been looking all over for you."

"Oh, fuck," Feliks muttered under his breath and turned in his chair. "Yes?"

Lukas Bondevik approached with a stony expression on his face. "You're supposed to be doing art with me."

Feliks pulled a face. "Oh. I forgot."

In Arthur's opinion, it didn't look like Feliks had forgotten. Instead, it appeared more to be a group project that the Polish boy had rather wanted to avoid. He personally didn't blame him. He believed Lukas Bondevik wasn't the most pleasant of partners to work with.

Although many said 'Don't judge a book by its cover', Arthur had decided to place judgement on Lukas anyway, despite barely having spoken to him over the years. He always wore the same stoic expression, his manner was blunt and that bordered rude, and he gave off such a cold and unfriendly air that it was off-putting just being near him.

"Well, now that I've reminded you, come along to the art rooms," Lukas said.

"Can't we do this another day?" Feliks begged. "I don't have my art book with me…"

"I don't care," Lukas folded his arms. "I have mine, and since I need you for my project, you're coming along."

"Fine," Feliks rolled his eyes. "See you, Arthur."

"See you," he mumbled a reply, and watched his source of gossip leave.

Arthur turned and stared at his coursework on his screen. The words blurred into its glow. Who would be spreading rumours about him? He would assume Alfred or Francis had done it for some kind of joke, only to let it get out of hand. However, Feliks would've known, and Alfred and Francis were so hopeless at keeping secrets that they'd probably have told him what they'd done by now. From the way Feliks had made it sound, the entire year were aware of this lie.

"Oh, Arthur," someone whispered, and he turned in his seat to see Miss Morbrey approaching him.

He wasn't some poor child tangled in a love affair with an older man who appeared more responsible than other students.

"I have some papers of you back in the classroom, if you'd like to come with me to get them?" she offered.

"Sure," he replied, numbly logging off, packing up, and following her.

He had seen Mr Vurkel – he was sure of it – and had been told by the man himself that a student-teacher relationship had never happened.

"You've been getting a lot better," Miss Morbrey enthused. "It's so good to see you progressing to the next level at such an early stage, but I'm positive it can be done."

He nodded, his mind completely elsewhere. Why would anyone target him, anyway? Was it because he had been close to Mr Vurkel beforehand?

"There are some adjustments still, of course, but I'm confident you can overcome those," she continued.

Why would the topic of Mr Vurkel arise? It had been months – perhaps Feliks wasn't the only one to have pinpointed their former teacher in that article? Even so, why was Arthur suddenly subject to the horrors of gossip?

He followed Miss Morbrey into the classroom and to her desk. She pulled the papers out of a folder she had.

"Here they are," she juggled them out of a stack of other work.

Why couldn't he be seen as responsible and cool, like Francis? Why was it Francis who was admired for having already done 'the deed' with a woman? Why was it _him_ who was accused of running after some ex-teacher?

"If you just phrase it correctly, then your explanation could be a little clearer here," Miss Morbrey was saying.

Was it because they were jealous of him being Miss Morbrey's favourite? Had some angst ridden fellow student decided to target him as revenge for winning their attractive teacher's favour?

"Arthur? Are you OK? You seem lost," she asked innocently.

"I'm not gay," he told her clumsily.

"Sorry?" she squinted, as if she was trying to process his words correctly.

He'd liked Miss Morbrey as a teacher more and more the further the term had progressed, and although he'd only just realised now, her appearance wasn't the only quality he liked. She was so _helpful_ – she was always willing to support him – but she was also lively, thoughtful, innocent yet knowing. She was a _woman_ , and that made her so much more different than any other female he'd spoken to, so-

Arthur kissed his teacher.

Yes – he knew it was wrong, he knew it was incredibly stupid and he most certainly knew it wouldn't make his situation any better, but something had clicked in his mind; something so sudden – it was called realisation.

Miss Morbrey leant away and took a step back, pushing the essays into his hands.

"Arthur, um…" she looked away, face flushed.

"I'm sorry," he shook his head. "If I… I didn't…"

She swallowed. "Just…"

"I'm going," he took several paces away from her. "Thank you. For the essays. Not the…"

"Hmm," she wouldn't look at him.

 _Stupid_ , Arthur told himself, yet at the same time, he didn't feel bad for having kissed Miss Morbrey. His heart was racing, even though he'd retreated to the other side of the classroom.

Miss Morbrey didn't say anything as he left the room. Arthur kept cursing himself all the way back to the library – his reckless actions could've been witnessed, and Miss Morbrey would lose her job as a result.

He sat before the computer and worried himself throughout the rest of lunch. However, on his way back to form class, Arthur had only one thing to wonder: Miss Morbrey hadn't instantly recoiled, had she? Or had she? He couldn't really remember.

That thought brought a smile to rebel Arthur's face – that's right; he, Arthur, was a rebel.

He kind of liked it.

* * *

 **A/N:** _Only bad things can happen from this, Arthur. The moral of this story is: don't behave in a reckless way that could harm yourself and others! Also, don't make moves on your teachers- just don't try this at school, kids- seriously. Arthur is setting a **bad example**. Until next time!_

 _Roderich Edelstein:_ Austria  
 _Elizabeta Hédeváry:_ Hungary  
 _Berwald Oxenstierna:_ Sweden  
 _Matthias Kohler:_ Denmark  
 _Tino Vainamoinen:_ Finland  
 _Lukas Bondevik:_ Norway  
 _Eduard von Bock:_ Estonia  
 _Feliks Lukasiewicz:_ Poland


	28. Chapter 27

**A/N:** _First things first, I deeply apologise for such a later chapter! The world has been warring against me this week, and it's nearly half term, so coursework deadlines have begun to pressure me a little. That's OK, though, because I decided to be super productive and finished my History coursework yesterday, which has really taken a huge load from my shoulders. However, it's not just work that's ferociously turned against me. I have a really bad cold, and I'm fairly sure my concentration levels have plummeted! I've been going to bed at like nine on a Friday night! I feel very light weight lately... And finally, the Internet. I really thought I'd overcome these problems some time ago, but it seems the dreaded lack of connection has returned. Yes- from now on, I may be experiencing some troublesome connection issues, again, so once more can't guarantee when chapters will be posted. Hopefully, the problem will be fixed, but for now, it's going to be very unpredictable, ranging between fully functional and actually decent to dropped out and non-existent._

 _Once more, I apologise for the lateness of this chapter, especially as I'd previously said I'd try and make things a little more regular. Thank you for your patience, and please enjoy the next chapter of Gakutalia!_

* * *

 **F.B.**

Francis was seeing rapid progress with the band's musical talent. They were functioning as musicians, and Alfred could even add vocals to the music at this stage. They weren't exactly _fantastic_ vocals, needless to say, but they were not _awful_ vocals, either. As manager, Francis had gone to the effort to send a little card through to the auditions that would occur next week. Everything would be set up by then, and he strongly believed 'Freedom and the Coms' would be able to go on stage and perform to their best. All in all, he was feeling quite positive about their overall performance. It was, at the end of the day, a school Talent Show- not the X Factory, or Human's Got Talent.

He still wasn't completely sure about the band name 'Freedom and the Coms', but Ivan and Yao no longer seemed to care, and as long as the band remained satisfied enough to stay together, he was fine. As long as things were running smoothly, Francis was fine. The less stress he had to deal with, the better. In that current moment, Francis could easily say that he was utterly and completely fine.

He had barely spoken to Arthur that week, let alone seen him. Arthur had been spectacularly evasive, arriving to registration just on time to leave. However, Francis was in his own little world, and as long as he didn't need to maintain the band's problems, that was _fine_.

He was extremely conscious that the band had auditions next week and, including this week, four weeks until the show if they got through the auditions. The only thing Francis could do was worry, since he'd already played his part in management. Roderich would do the teaching, the musicians would do the learning – there was only so much that he, Francis, could truly do.

He sighed and leant back in his chair, watching the increasingly successful baby birds hatch from their nest of music. He must've been their mother and, as strange as it was to admit it, Roderich was their austere father. He smiled when seeing the world like that, but chose to hold his tongue rather than laugh aloud at the thought. Besides, Roderich would be horrified, perhaps even a little repulsed, of a metaphor comparing him to a bird.

He texted Arthur and waited for a reply. He didn't receive one.

 **A.K.**

Getting the rumours set straight was bad enough. He didn't want his fellow students to see him as a desperate schoolboy running after the footsteps Mr Vurkel had left behind. However, Miss Morbrey now became a lot more reserved after that hateful scene. The lessons she taught suddenly became less casual – before, there had been a somewhat friend-like relationship between her and her students. Now it was purely student-teacher. Arthur knew he was to blame for that, although the rest of the class were luckily none the wiser.

He wasn't entirely sure what to do. Being rebellious at the time had had its perks, but now that he was seeing the consequences of his actions, he was truly regretting what he had done. Considering Miss Morbrey couldn't even look him in the eye, there was cause for concern.

He felt unable to consult any of his friends about it, because basic predictions would show the horror they'd express upon hearing about his careless actions. He'd dug a ditch, and he was struggling to crawl out of it.

Strained, Arthur waited for English to end, but as the clock neared five to, Miss Morbrey suddenly started packing away her things.

"I forgot to tell you all that my mother's currently in hospital, so I'll be leaving five minutes early to see her," she explained, anxiously. "I figured that, since it was lunch, none of you would be too concerned about your lesson ending five minutes early. Have a good day."

With that, she left the classroom. Arthur's naïve arrogance from the kiss had had him believing Miss Morbrey had been slightly interested in him, but that was clearly untrue. Something told him her mother was not in hospital, and that Miss Morbrey would be hiding in the staffroom this lunchtime, away from him. He had hoped to speak with her after the lesson, to try and smooth things over and maybe get past the awkward incident, but it seemed he'd have to think harder about how he'd get Miss Morbrey on her own, as creepy as that sounded. He didn't want things to be awkward, as difficult as that was to ask for, and he most certainly didn't want another human being to feel uncomfortable in his presence.

"Dude, you seem down," he raised his head and looked at Alfred, whom he was seated next to. "What's up?"

"Oh, nothing," he packed his bags as other students filed out of the room. "Just tired."

"I feel you," Alfred replied. "Can't wait until the winter holidays, if I'm honest with you… Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to come up to the music rooms and see how we're doing?"

Arthur hadn't spent a lot of time with his friends other than the stressful Hallowe'en events. He nodded wearily and followed Alfred all the way to the music rooms where the other three were.

"Arthur!" Francis seemed surprised to see him. "How wonderful to see you here."

"I thought I'd come along," he replied, and seated himself beside Francis. "Alright; let's hear you all play."

Alfred beamed and slung the guitar strap over his head, whilst Yao and Ivan positioned themselves at their posts. Vacantly, Arthur watched them play their music. They weren't bad, considering they'd only started learning how to play instruments in September. However, he doubted they could play anything else other than the set routine that had been drilled into their heads through memory.

It was nice to listen to them and reconnect with his friends, but the thought of Miss Morbrey complaining about him to higher authorities had slowly dawned on him throughout the day. She hadn't seemed to have done that so far, but that didn't mean she wouldn't.

"Arthur, you look unwell," Francis commented. "Is everything OK?"

"People keep asking me that today," he rubbed at his head. "I suppose so. I've been saying I'm tired – do I look tired?"

"Yes," Francis said. "It's not… you know… what happened over Hallowe'en?"

The events of Hallowe'en had become unwanted and distant memories of the past. Ever since they'd restarted school and jumped back into the ordinary swing of things, Arthur had been more focused on more pressing issues, such as getting his teacher to break the law.

"No, no, it's not that," he replied, shaking his head. "I really am just tired. I think these last few weeks will really drag out for me."

"It's always like that," Francis replied, but he didn't look convinced.

 _Of course he's not fooled,_ Arthur thought to himself. _Francis has known you for longer than anyone else outside the family._

Francis had been his friend since before school. Their families had been very close whilst Francis's father was alive, and it was through each other's parents that Arthur had met Francis.

At first, things had not been so rosy, and they still had their arguments even now. A young Francis had taken one look at a young Arthur and had deemed him unworthy of his attention. However, since both the Kirkland and Bonnefoy families were having a long social event at the time, the two boys were forced to stick by each other's sides for the entire night if they wanted basic entertainment gained from the communication of a like-minded peer.

It was difficult to determine how deep the pride and arrogance of young Francis Bonnefoy held against young Arthur Kirkland was, but since they were both only three years old, it didn't run that far. As soon as food arrived, the two children sat with their families, but ate alongside each other, and their love of simple child's food gave them a shared superior attitude that they could present to the adults. Francis and Arthur became friends over forced conversation and a meal.

However, friendship began to be extremely convenient when the two boys ended up being in school together. It was then that the pair of them could finally confirm that they were friends, rather than mere allies. They became inseparable and spent the next two years as an elitist pair, until Alfred came along in Year Two.

However, the bond between Arthur and Francis was still inseparable, and Alfred's feeling of being the outsider only lasted until Year Five when Yao started hanging out with them. Arthur could read Francis just as well as Francis could read him.

That was why he noticed the complete change in demeanour in Francis when they reached the summer of Year Six. It was nearing Francis' eleventh birthday, but there was no enthusiasm from either the Bonnefoy or the Kirkland families.

Francis's father died in June of that year.

Some distant family friends put it down to pure coincidence and accident, but closer friends and direct relatives knew the exact details. Arthur still remembered the moment Francis had finally opened up about what had happened.

Mr Bonnefoy had overdosed and fallen down the stairs. He'd broken his neck, so had apparently died before any pain could be felt. However, the raw pain had left the Bonnefoy family in tatters. Mrs Bonnefoy was barely sound, and had become suddenly reclusive, refusing to see visitors or have anyone outside the household speak to her.

However, she did let the Kirklands take Francis away on a two week holiday around Europe, since she didn't want the morbid atmosphere suffocating her only child, whom she adored above everything else.

Family relations weren't the same. It was evident in the way he acted that Francis and his mother had an unusually close bond, but that would be normal, considering what the pair had been through.

Yet Mrs Bonnefoy never seemed to fully recover from the death of her husband. She continued her reclusive lifestyle, for which Francis always said she now had to manage the house maintenance that Mr Bonnefoy had once dealt with, as well as work, whence she was always busy. Eventually, people gave up asking, and Francis no longer needed an explanation to offer. Mrs Bonnefoy kept her house going, and it seemed she spoke frequently with Francis. He was alive and well and happy; as a mother, Mrs Bonnefoy was raising her child perfectly.

His bond with Francis hadn't broken since. They had their arguments, yes, but their friendship had never once shattered or been destroyed by careless words and actions. He and Francis acted the way they did not because, as friends, they weren't that close, but because Arthur felt that Francis was more of a brother rather than a friend. Years of experience with one another meant they always noticed when someone wasn't quite right with the other.

So, just like those seven and a half years ago when Arthur noticed the difference in Francis the day his father died, he could tell Francis was picking out his odd behaviour right now. He wasn't sure how he could hide it, or even _if_ he could hide it – all he knew was that, if there was ever someone to turn to, it would be Francis.

However, he wouldn't depend on his best friend yet. That could wait until his attempts to reconcile with Miss Morbrey had failed. Only then would he tell Francis about what he'd done.

He looked back at the band, who was nearly finished.

"If only the three of you played like that when I was around," Roderich said in the doorway. "Perhaps maybe we'd be making some progress."

"C'mon, dude, we've been doing well," Alfred lowered his guitar. "Can't we ever win a compliment from you?"

"No," Roderich replied bluntly. "The reason for that is that none of you view music as an art to be pursued due to a love for it. You merely want to use it as a means to win some contest the school has organised. I can barely call you music lovers for that type of disrespect. Therefore, you'll have to perform far better and to a greater extent before you start to earn _basic_ positive acknowledgement on my part."

"You are _way_ too harsh, aru," Yao complained.

Arthur had heard Roderich was a firm teacher, but he'd never expected to hear him be this critical. However, it was not him who was receiving the criticism, and therefore, he didn't need to worry about that. This only taught him to never wind up in a situation that would potentially put him under the leadership of Roderich Edelstein.

"You know," Francis murmured, scooting closer in his chair, whilst the musicians debated the best way to perform. "If something's bothering you, I'm always here to listen."

 _I know you are,_ Arthur thought.

"It's fine, Francis," he insisted. "There's nothing wrong. I'm just tired."

It felt like a betrayal to the silent trust he'd built up with Francis over the years, but this was something Arthur felt he had to deal with on his own. He'd dug the ditch himself, and it was his responsibility to pull himself out.

* * *

 **A/N:** _I thought it would provide some background information; I don't think there's been that much of it. I always like to get to know a character more, so now it's Francis' turn! Anyway, I hope the chapter was enjoyable. This one was quite nice to write, what with establishing the bond between Francis and Arthur. It may not be the happiest chapter, but I personally believe that bad situations always make a person stronger, and that support from those around you is always very important. I hope everyone had a good week, and I definitely hope to recover from this killer cold!_

 _Thank you for reading Gakutalia- until next time!_

 _Roderich Edelstein:_ Austria


	29. Chapter 28

**A/N:** _Another late chapter, but I have an excuse this time! I watched Deadpool with some friends last night, and I'm just going to say, I actually laughed aloud in the theatre (other people did too, it wasn't just me!) because it was so funny! I'm not about to spoil it for anyone, but if you can, I would seriously recommend trying to see it!_

 _Here's the next chapter of Gakutalia, and happy Valentine's day for everyone tomorrow!_

* * *

 **F.V.**

He could see Ludwig was trying his hardest. All the pieces had arrived this week, and his friend was finally able to compile it into the stage. Next week, there would be auditions.

They had become accustomed to spending their lunchtimes devoted to sitting around, preparing the Talent Show stage. There was the occasion when he'd join Kiku at Manga Club, but other than that, the pair of them were set to the side to entertain themselves whilst Ludwig figured the arrangements out.

Fel rather liked being allowed to lounge around and do what he liked. He could take frequent naps without needing to be anywhere or concentrating on something else, and when he was awake, he could watch Kiku quietly sketching some new and interesting drawing that he would either document in his Art book or show to his Manga Club. To Fel, this was the life.

As far as organisation went, he had already had Lovino's party sorted. The Hallowe'en bet had worked out extremely towards his favour, since he had saved a load of his share of candy as reserve towards the party. Anything else that had needed ordering had long since arrived. He and his brother had already devised the perfect method of getting rid of their father for the night.

Just watching Ludwig hard at work reminded him how stressful it was to have the responsibility placed on one's shoulders.

"Hey, Kiku, do you think Ludwig would make a good engineer?" he asked, watching his German friend stress about how the lights needed to at least be symmetrical.

"Ludwig?" Kiku raised his head from his drawing and followed Fel's gaze. "Yes, actually. I think he'd make a great engineer; but that's the career he's looking into, right?"

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Fel smiled to himself. "What are you thinking of doing, Kiku?"

Kiku frowned as he pondered this. "Maybe development. Something technology related. And if not that, I'll pursue the life of a Manga artist."

There was a pause. Fel was able to imagine Kiku fitting into those roles easily.

"What about you, Fel?" Kiku suddenly asked.

He blinked, and then frowned in thought. "I'm not entirely sure. I'm thinking of taking a break rather than applying to university, just so I can get some experience in the real world and decide what it is I want to do."

"You look uncertain, though?" Kiku said, picking up on his troubled expression.

"I don't want to still be living at home when I'm in my thirties," Fel admitted. "I mean, Lovino never got into university, and he never tried to apply again. He's twenty, and he's living at home, and it doesn't seem like he'll be moving out any time soon."

"But you've followed the same procedures as everyone else," Kiku said. "You were looking at some art universities, right?"

"I am," Fel replied. "That's why I really want to get in. I want to feel like I'm progressing."

"It's fine, Fel," Kiku said. "You're a very good artist. I have faith that you can do this. Besides, university is also there to get you the skills needed for other jobs."

Fel nodded. "I just want…"

"What?" Kiku asked, when it seemed Fel wouldn't continue.

"I just want us all to be happy," Fel smiled at him. "I want us all to pursue the careers we want, and then, about forty years later, we can all be embarrassing dads surrounding a barbeque with our dad aprons and beers; and if one of us doesn't want a family, then being a single millionaire with a cruise ship to the Mediterranean every year would be just fine."

Kiku looked amused. "Of course we'll all be happy, Fel. Just take opportunities when they come for you. I can tell you that universities will offer you the opportunities you want."

Fel smiled, only to then look towards Ludwig. "Hey, Ludwig. What time are we finishing up here?"

Ludwig turned from where he'd been in close discussion with Matthias. "We're almost done, here. I think, if we continue what we're doing this lunch, we'll only need to spend an extra half hour after school."

Fel nodded. He knew he couldn't wait for his friend after school. He had responsibilities at home that called. However, in the idyllic world, Fel could imagine a lazy afternoon waiting for Ludwig to finish his project, so that the pair of them could walk down to the bus station.

That summer memory where the four of them – older brothers included – had laughed and talked just outside the bus. Fel always dreamed of that moment, always wished to replicate it, but he knew he could never recreate the wonderful memory of that summer. The sun had shone on his back, a warm, golden caress, and Ludwig had been leaning against the bus station, his blazer slung over his shoulder, because it was too hot to wear. Gilbert and Lovino had been in deep conversation with Antonio, but every now and then, the elder Beilschmidt brother would nudge his sibling and include them in the conversation, to ask a question, make a statement, give an opinion, anything.

Then, once the bus had taken enough time doing whatever it was buses did when they weren't on time, Antonio and the Beilschmidt brothers would wave goodbye, board the bus, and be done with the day. Fel would return home with Lovino, and if their father had anything to say, then a younger, more selfless Lovino would intervene and take the blame- needless to say, nothing had changed in that last aspect.

Those summer memories dipped in gold were something Fel always found himself yearning. The only thing he would change about it would be adding the presence of Kiku.

He called this ideal world Tranquility, because one day, Fel intended to walk out with a homemade pizza or three, and serve them to the eager families of Kiku and Ludwig. It didn't matter that it was a potential twenty to thirty years into the future – Fel could wait. So long as Tranquility happened, his dreams would come true.

And that scene would be dipped in the same summer gold.

 **A.J.**

With his bag slung over his shoulder, Alfred prepared to hurry out of the classroom and escape school. However, a hand grasped his shoulder firmly and pulled him aside from the crowd. He turned and met the concerned expression of Francis, with Yao and Ivan in tow.

Arthur had already melted into the crowd, and Alfred was about to point this out, until Francis shook his head.

"What is it?" he asked, wondering what their forlorn expressions were about.

Their teacher had already left the room, which meant they could discuss whatever it was in full privacy.

"It's about Arthur," Francis said, and sat on one of the tables.

Alfred frowned. "What about him?"

"Are you completely oblivious?" Francis appeared to be affronted. "Arthur's barely spoken to us in the past days. Tell me how many times you've had a conversation with him this week."

"I asked him if he was alright in English today," Alfred replied. "But he said he was tired, so we moved on."

"Any other times you've spoken to him?" Francis asked.

Alfred thought for a moment, but then realised he really had barely seen Arthur this week. Numbly, he shook his head in response.

"What about last week?" Francis continued.

"No, I… barely talked to him," Alfred grimaced. "But, come on, dude. Have Yao and Ivan really noticed that much? Why am I getting all the blame for this?"

"That's because we noticed," Yao frowned.

"He's been so quiet that we'd have thought you'd notice," Ivan added. "I guess not, though."

"What do you think's wrong with him?" Alfred asked.

"We don't know," Francis admitted. "He won't tell me, and he's been so evasive that it's hard to corner him and question him about it."

"I don't know, dudes," Alfred shifted from foot to foot. "He said he was tired. Maybe we should just let him… I don't know. Sort things out?"

That answer didn't seem to satisfy Francis, who folded his arms and glowered at him.

"How can you be so selfish?" Francis demanded. "If there was anyone I could rely on to speak to him, then it would be you."

"Me?" Alfred gaped. "Why not _you_? You've known him the longest."

"That may be so, but you're exceptional with people," Francis countered. "Why don't you realise when you're friends need you? You're always so worked up about your own issues that you miss those around you. You're convenient ignorance of the rest of humanity seems to have served you well so far, but now's the time you put your selfish behaviour aside and notice what's happening around you for once."

"Where is this coming from, Francis?" Alfred cringed. "Why am I being attacked?"

"Because I'm worried about him and he won't talk to me," Francis said desperately.

"If he won't talk to you, why would he talk to me?" Alfred folded his arms. "You're being way too reliant on me. I don't think he'll tell me anything."

"Haven't you ever noticed the connection between the two of you?" Ivan looked amazed.

"It's true," Yao blinked. "Francis may be his oldest friend, but it's undeniable that you're the one he likes to look out for."

"Wh-what?" Alfred blinked.

"It's hard to talk to those you know better," Francis admitted. "I get that. But it's easy to talk to someone you've defended over the years. Arthur sought you out when you first arrived and asked you to hang out with us. Never, in my entire life, have I ever seen him seek out people. I don't know how to describe it, but you and Arthur have a connection that he's never had with anyone else before. Act out of character, show some concern, and he may open up to you."

There was some truth in their words. Six year old Alfred had thought nothing of Arthur asking him to hang out with him, and the same naivety had followed him through until this moment. However, the truth was obvious. Alfred was the friend Arthur could find emergency help from, and Arthur was strangely one of the only people Alfred sought approval from. His lack of enthusiasm towards the band that day had sunk deeper than Alfred himself had realised.

"Fine," he adjusted his bag on his shoulder. "I'll see what I can do. But I'm telling you, I don't think I'll get very far."

He hurried from the classroom and ran in the direction of the car park, where he knew Arthur would be waiting for Peter. His bag was heavy, but he still raced all the way, and saw the golden blonde head of his friend in the distance.

"Hey, Arthur!" he called out, just as he saw Peter join his brother. "Arthur!"

His friend turned his head, looked him straight in the eye, then turned away and disappeared into the crowd. Determined, Alfred pushed through the crowd, suddenly needing to see for himself this bad mood Arthur had fallen into. He reached out and grasped his friend's shirt.

Arthur turned. "What?"

"Dude, you gotta talk to me," he said. "What's wrong?"

"Why would you do this?" Arthur snapped. "Why would ask me in the middle of everything? What common sense must you be lacking to not consider that it's private?"

"Arthur…" Alfred frowned. "Tell me over the phone? In a private place?"

"No," Arthur replied curtly. "No, I don't want to tell you anything. Because it's none of your business. I'm under a lot of stress at the moment and don't need to deal with your shit."

By now, Peter had begun to look uncomfortable, but he said nothing whilst the two older boys faced each other.

"Arthur…?" Alfred frowned, ignoring the pain each of Arthur's words dealt.

"Oh, and whilst we're on the topic of stress and dealing with your crap," Arthur said thoughtfully as he started walking along. "Count me out of your audition. I have more pressing issues."

Alfred stood there and watched Arthur walk away.

 **Y.W.**

"Do you think he'll succeed?" Francis asked, the three of them still standing quietly in the classroom.

"Nope," Ivan opened the door.

"What?" Francis looked at him.

Ivan turned in the doorway with a smile. "No matter how hard Alfred tries, Francis, Arthur will never show weakness to him. You of all people should've known that. Now Alfred's going to get hurt."

The door closed behind him, because Ivan didn't wait for Francis to reply. Yao turned to Francis, who was staring at the door with a pained expression on his face.

Francis sighed. "He's right. Alfred will only get hurt."

"You'd considered that?" Yao asked.

"Of course," Francis admitted. "But… Arthur's important to me. I needed to see that he was OK."

"They'll be fine, aru," Yao patted him on the shoulder. "They always are."

"What do you think Ivan's problem was?" Francis asked.

Yao looked at the door. "Eh, I don't know. But he'll be fine, too. Stop worrying. The three of them will sort themselves out."

* * *

 **A/N:** _Have a great Valentine's Day, everyone! I will be making cheesecake that day, and catching up with more Downton Abbey, because I'm only just about to start Season 2 and am seriously behind! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and don't worry about the boys- perhaps Yao is wiser than he looks?_

 _Lovino Vargas:_ Romano  
 _Matthias Kohler:_ Denmark  
 _Peter Kirkland:_ Sealand


	30. Chapter 29

**A/N:** _OK, I want to profoundly apologise for my disappearance back there! That was cruel of me to take a unprecedented hiatus, but I actually became more committed to my mock exams more so than I thought I would. I know that's a pretty weak excuse to get distracted from making a regular post, and I could've at least warned people, but I chose to be a so and so about it and not say a word! I like to think my hard work was not in vain, and I felt very confident doing the mocks. So, I'm very sorry for the disappearance. I'll make sure to say if I vanish once more._

 _Enough of my grovelling! The next chapter is finally here!_

* * *

 **A.J.**

It was the day of the audition and yet, all he wanted to do was lie in bed and never leave. He wanted to stay under the covers, vacantly seeing the streak of light that filtered in through a crack in the curtains. His room seemed to be the only place he could find comfort in, and the last week had been stressful.

He passed a hand over his head and breathed out a sigh of relief, just as the door was pushed open a crack and his mother peered in.

"Are you alright, Alfred?" she asked, nervously.

He sat up, dishevelled from bed, and offered her a tired smile. "Don't worry about me, mum. I've got my audition today."

"A little nervous?" she asked.

 _Don't lie to your mum, dude,_ he thought, but nodded anyway. _That was just low_.

"Well, if you insist," she said. "Try and get some sleep. I know it's hard, but being more awake can really help."

"I know, mum," he replied, and watched her close the door.

Alfred flopped back down in bed and checked the time. His clock read six thirty, but he'd never changed it when the clocks changed, so in reality, it was five thirty. Stress had kept him awake late into the night and had awoken him harshly each morning. Food had been difficult to eat, and he could tell his family were becoming increasingly worried for him. Even he was worried about himself. Never had he been so bothered by his problems to be struggling to eat and sleep.

 _Ten more minutes,_ he promised himself, but knew his restless mind would have him moving around much sooner.

 **L.B.**

He was up at six in the morning, because that was the proper time to wake up and be alert by the time school arrived. Ludwig prided himself as an early riser, and it meant he could eat breakfast with his father before he had work. Gilbert was never awake at this time.

He had a busy day ahead of himself. As head director of the organisation, he'd been placed as one of the judges. Alongside him would be Roderich, because Edelstein was musically gifted and was probably just as efficient a judge due to his critical nature. He had also asked Feliks Lukasiewicz to join in, since the guy had a quirky, eccentric eye for talent, and was also critical. The last judge was Matthew Jones, because he was calm and rational, and would be able to deduct a sensible decision on each act. Those were the people he would be working with today.

Ludwig slicked back his hair in the mirror and admired himself. So long as he looked professional, people could be convinced into thinking he knew what he was doing.

 **F.B.**

Francis was the third person into the classroom for once. Since he'd spent an anxious weekend brewing over the issues of his friends, he had wondered whether the band would bother auditioning. Arthur and Alfred had been non-responsive, but at least Ivan had replied, letting him know all seemed fine.

Usually he was late, but stress because of that reason had brought him rushing to get to school to see the outcome of careful thinking in an isolated weekend. He was third to arrive, because already in the classroom were Ludwig and Alfred.

"Alfred," he gasped. "What happened? How are you?"

He rushed over and seated himself beside his friend. After that fateful afternoon when he'd sent Alfred after Arthur, there had been a good amount of avoiding of one another. Francis had been too guilty to face the other boy, because he'd willingly and knowingly sent him towards his fate of having Arthur shout at him. He was not the only one, though, because Alfred had distanced himself methodically, whatever his reasons were.

It was only now, after an entire week, that Francis was able to get a good look at Alfred. He had lost weight, and there were dark shadows under his eyes. However, he was still able to offer a smile.

"You look wasted," Francis worried. "Are you eating right? What's wrong, Alfred? What did Arthur say?"

Alfred laughed breathlessly. "It's nothing to do with Arthur – well, not really. I guess I'm worried, too. He didn't want to speak to me, Francis."

Francis sighed. "I shouldn't have made you try. You need to look after yourself. You should cancel the audition."

"I can't do that," Alfred sat upright. "Ivan already tried to convince me to do that, but I'm sticking through it. I'd be a total let down if I backed out now."

Francis felt unconvinced. "I care more for my friend's well-being than his rise to fame."

Alfred yawned and shrugged. "Hey, I'm walking around – I even rode my bike to school for once. I'm active enough to function for this one day, and then maybe I'll hibernate."

"If you insist," he said. "But… what did Arthur say?"

"He told me it was none of my business," Alfred put his head on the desk and shrugged. "So, whatever. I won't ask again. If he needs me, he'll come find me, Francis. Honest."

Francis watched his friend doze off. Rather than shake him awake once more, he decided to just stay by his side, waiting to support him when he woke up.

 **K.H.**

It was not the right time to be on the phone to Fel. It was not what he'd call his ideal morning routine, but the reality was that he was on the phone to Fel when he needed to be taking his bike to school.

"I can't find it anywhere," Fel was panicking down the end of the line.

"I don't know what to say," Kiku admitted. "When was the last time you saw it?"

"I could've sworn I brought it home," Fel whined. "I hope I didn't leave it on the train."

 _I hope you didn't either_ , Kiku thought, but didn't put it past Fel either.

He'd lost his phone and was unable to find it.

"Look, Fel, I think you'll just have to go without it today," Kiku said anxiously. "I need to go, otherwise I'll be late to school."

"OK," Fel sounded miserable. "I'll see you."

"Yes," Kiku said, and frowned when Fel hung up from the other end of the line.

 **F.V.**

He set the home phone down and turned to Lovino miserably. "Kiku couldn't help. I don't know what to do."

"Well, to fuck with that," his brother replied. "You're on your own."

Lovino pushed away from the door and went out, a frown etched across his face. Fel turned away from his brother and looked solemnly at the phone. He was always doing things like this – forgetting things and leaving them somewhere – but now it seemed it was his responsibility to find his own belongings.

Something told Feliciano Vargas that he wouldn't be getting his phone back.

He only just caught the train on time – but it wasn't like he could text about it or anything…

 **I.B.**

"I'm so proud of my little brother," Katyusha enveloped him in the largest of hugs. "I'm sure you can win this audition any day! Your big sister just wants you to know that she thinks you can do anything."

"Eh, thanks, Kat," he tried to pry himself from her loving grip, but that seemed ineffective.

"Big brother shouldn't put himself in the position where his feelings can get hurt," Natalya said beside his shoulder. "I worry about you…"

"It's nice to know you have faith in me," he replied drily.

"It's not that," she said. "I just want to see my brother happy, that's all…"

"I'm the older of us two," he groaned. "I should be the one watching out for you."

"Whatever," she shrugged. "I'll come see your audition."

"Please don't."

"Look, your bandmates aren't as bad as I thought," she said. "It's just that manager of yours – I think he has some tricks up his sleeve."

"Stop assuming Francis is gay; he's not," Ivan sighed.

"I don't want him taking advantage of my brother," Natalya insisted.

By now, everyone who walked past them were sending them odd glances. Ivan mentally groaned. Why did these embarrassingly awkward family moments always have to happen to him in public? Gently, he eased himself from Katyusha's grasp, and she waved him off tearfully.

"So embarrassing," he muttered.

"I know," Natalya grimaced as they walked into school. "She can't help it, though."

"Yeah," he said.

"Good luck, big brother," Natalya said, just before they went to their separate classes. "Don't cry if they say you didn't make it through."

"Why would I cry?" he glanced at her.

She offered him one of her small, seemingly forced smiles. "I know. Make sure your bandmates don't either…"

"They won't," he replied irritably, and abandoned his cruel sister for his classroom.

 **Y.W.**

"Aniki!" someone cried, just as they were traversing between classes. "I heard you were auditioning!"

Yao braced himself for mental torture before turning round to face the grotesquely tall Year Twelve student that _towered_ above him. Yong Soo Im had been the permanently annoying figure throughout Yao's life ever since he'd joined in his first year, aged eleven. He'd thought twelve year old Yao was the coolest person to live, eat, and shit on the planet (although, this was Yong Soo in the perspective of Yao…), and that opinion seemed to have continued throughout his school life.

One thing that bothered Yao about Yong Soo was his constant habit of _copying_ him. When Yao went through a phase of wearing his hair out in Year Nine, Yong Soo tried to grow his out, although it seemed his mother had grown frustrated and cut his hair herself eventually. Yao found a love for the school jumper in Year Ten, and suddenly Yong Soo seemed to adore it as well. Yao's aunt gave him a winter set of scarf and mittens, for which he started showing off how comfortable he was in Year Twelve, only to have Yong Soo turn up in a similar getup, claiming to have made both sets. Yao had even hidden his Year Eleven leaver's dinner photo just to prevent Yong Soo attempting to copy the nice suit he'd been wearing that night. Everything Yao did, Yong Soo did, and now he was here, by his shoulder (even though Yong Soo stood noticeable taller than he did). He could applaud the younger boy's admiration, but Yao felt he ought to try some originality...

"Shout it out to the world, don't you?" he grimaced.

"Hey, hey, I just wanted to say that I totally organised the whole thing, so I came to wish you luck," Yong Soo babbled.

"Didn't Ludwig Beil-" Ivan began.

"Beilshit didn't do nothing," Yong Soo interrupted with a smug expression on his face. "He may take the credit on literally every poster put around this school that implies he's the main judge for that very reason, but I know, deep in my heart, that I elevated him to that position out of my own personal benevolence."

"Right," Yao didn't believe it for a second.

"Well, can we…" Alfred pointed tiredly towards their classroom. "Go?"

"What?" Yong Soo looked at him. "Who are you?"

Yao expected Alfred to leap into some hero's rant about how he was the great Alfred Jones whom none could conquer and more irrelevant things.

"Eh, sure, kid," Alfred said, and started heading towards their class.

"Alfred," Arthur called from across the corridor. "Alfred, we need to talk."

"Hmm, what is it, dude?" Yao watched Alfred suddenly straighten up and look towards their other friend.

Arthur looked exhausted as well. He had dark shadows under his eyes and also appeared to have lost some weight.

"I'm coming," he said to them all.

"What?" Alfred frowned.

"I can make it to the audition after school," Arthur said. "I just need to clear some things up, and then I'll be there."

"Dude," Alfred's face lit up with a smile.

"Don't overreact, before I change my mind," Arthur grumbled.

"Eh, sure," Alfred beamed. "Oh, and by the way kid-" this part was directed towards Yong Soo. "-I'm Alfred Jones, King of the Heroes and one day gonna be the best goddam guy in the whole world."

Yao smiled then. It seemed that all had worked out.

* * *

 **A/N:** _Ah, gotta love Yong Soo- he's an awesome kid. Fun fact: he's one of my favourite Hetalia characters, so I was a little sad he didn't make an anime appearance. His relationship with Yao is so much like a younger sibling, it's amazing! I won't lie, I'm a younger sibling and I spent a lot of my early childhood copying whatever hobbies, styles and interests my sister tried out._

 _I hope the wait for this wasn't too inconvenient. Thank you for your patience. Also, thank you for **5,000** views! That's amazing! All the support really is wonderful! Until next time!_

 _Gilbert Beilschmidt:_ Prussia  
 _Roderich Edelstein:_ Austria  
 _Feliks Lukasiewicz:_ Poland  
 _Matthew Jones:_ Canada  
 _Lovino Vargas:_ Romano  
 _Katyusha Braginsky:_ Ukraine  
 _Natalya Braginsky:_ Belarus  
 _Yong Soo Im:_ S. Korea


	31. Chapter 30

**A/N:** _Hello everyone! I believe I'm getting back onto the schedule of posting on a more regular basis. Now that the mocks are out of the way, I don't need to worry so much about exams. On the bright side, my sacrificed free time has paid off! I got 80% in my History exam, which is an A, and 85% in Classics, which is an A*! I have yet to receive my English results back... but our teacher implied our whole class hadn't performed to the best of our abilities. Thus I don't have high hopes for that one! Arthur would be disappointed..._

 _Without further ado, Chapter 30 of Gakutalia (or 31, according to this website)!_

* * *

 **A.K.**

It was the end of the school day, and Arthur needed to clear up the mess he'd started. It was today that he would formally apologise to Miss Morbrey and end his pride and arrogance. The poor woman had probably been fretting about what would become of her career as a result of this and yet, she'd still agreed to see him after school for the final check over his coursework.

Of course that was a lie. Arthur just wanted to talk to her and say he was sorry. Countless times had he and Miss Morbrey been over his coursework so that she could avoid seeing him in private about it. She'd been reluctant, but she had agreed to join him for this last time.

Arthur stood before the classroom and saw his teacher calmly marking homework inside. He paused a moment, took a deep breath, and then knocked. He watched her raise her head, and motion for him to come inside.

 _Don't screw this up,_ he told himself as he pushed open the door.

 **A.J.**

"This is the moment," Francis said determinedly. "This is where you prove your skills as a band and wow the judges."

"We'll probably fail, aru," Yao complained.

"There's no need for that attitude," Francis scolded. "Have confidence. That way, you can play better. Now, you three are here to win."

"Or leave," Ivan suggested. "That could still work out fine."

"We're not leaving either," Francis turned on him. "You two have the worst enthusiasm and an extreme case of pessimism. Be happy! Your manager requires you to do so."

Alfred was peering out of the side of the stage, desperately trying to catch Arthur's face amongst the crowd of others. However, he couldn't see the blonde head or green eyes – his friend just wasn't there.

"Where are you, dude?" he muttered under his breath. "Don't leave me hanging here…"

He could see Ivan's younger sister, that Yong Soo kid from earlier, and even his own brother, Matthew.

"Hey, Matt," he hissed, and his brother turned to look at him. "Have you seen Arthur?"

Matthew glanced around the hall at the empty seats where only a few people sat.

"I'm afraid he's not here, eh," Matthew replied. "Are you sure he's coming? After, you know…?"

"He said he'd be here," Alfred insisted. "I'm sure he's coming. I'm sure of it…"

 **A.K.**

"I think you've just about got everything sorted," Miss Morbrey said. "In truth, I don't think you needed to get this checked again. I'd say you have an extremely high chance that you'll certainly get full marks for this."

"That's not really the reason I came here," he admitted as he took the draft from her hands.

Miss Morbrey stiffened on the spot, and finally met his gaze after weeks of avoiding looking him straight in the eyes. That in itself made Arthur feel like he'd made some form of progression.

"I wanted to apologise," he continued, before she could make an excuse and swiftly leave.

"A-apologise?" she looked alarmed.

"For what I did," he said sincerely. "It was wrong, and arrogant of me, and I understand I've put you in the most uncomfortable of positions – something a gentleman shouldn't do, and I've always claimed to be a gentleman… Well, it was an act of pure, stupid impulse, and I want you to know that I had no intentions of making you lose your job; let alone continuing to act in the way I did. I-"

"Arthur, you sound like you're reading off a script," Miss Morbrey replied. "Please; if you want to apologise, then just say 'sorry'. That's enough. It sounds like you mean it from what you've said, but I don't want this getting in the way of your coursework. That would be inappropriate and unprofessional – then I would _deserve_ to lose my job."

"You're not in the wrong," he protested.

She smiled wryly. "I know."

He felt a little embarrassed after that, and went about tucking his coursework in his bag. Now that he'd gotten past this issue, he suddenly felt like the weight of responsibility had been lifted from his shoulders. No longer did he need to fret about Miss Morbrey reporting him to her superiors, or about her losing her job over his childish and stupid actions.

"I'm sorry – I shouldn't make you feel bad about it," she said. "However, as your teacher, I'm also here to advise you against the bad decisions of your life; and trust me, that was a pretty bad decision."

She placed her mug on the table with an unusually loud smack that seemed to echo around the room – perhaps she hadn't forgiven him after all?

"Miss Morbrey, you won't tell anyone about this, will you?" he asked uncertainly. "I know I made a bad decision."

"You made a very bad decision," she nodded. "But you're not yet eighteen. However, you are different…"

"I hope you mean that in a good way," he replied, wondering if his teacher had moved beyond the stage of fear to the path of arrogance.

"I suppose so," she shrugged. "I mean, other boys your age will continue to make more bad decisions – one bad decision after the other."

Arthur felt his pride inflate. "I suppose that is a compliment."

"It'll be your last, that's for sure," she removed her glass and set them down beside her mug.

"Huh, you have a lot of faith in…" he glanced at her to see his teacher shrugging of her jacket. "What? Last?"

Miss Morbrey smiled just as he heard the metallic thud reverberate around his head and a sharp pain. He was barely conscious by the time his knees hit the ground. Arthur Kirkland didn't move an inch once his head cracked against the carpet.

 **A.J.**

Alfred had witnessed two acts –a dog show and a little boy playing the flute – yet Arthur still wasn't present. He had been numb to the judges until the moment the third act; a magic trick; went towards the stage after being called in by Ludwig. However, when Alfred peered through the curtains one more time, he noticed Roderich and Matthew seated at the judges' table.

"What the Hell?" he looked at the others. "When did Roderich and Matthew become judges?"

"I don't know," Francis admitted. "But it seems they'll be critiquing you guys."

"If Roderich is doing that, then we're doomed," Yao said. "He'll never let us through, aru."

Patiently, Alfred waited until the current act was over, before he motioned towards Matthew to approach. He watched his brother consult with the other three before coming over.

"What is it, eh?" Matthew asked.

"Why didn't you tell me you were judging the auditions?" Alfred demanded.

"O-oh, maple," Matthew cringed away. "You just seemed so stressed about the whole thing that I never thought to bring it up."

"Dude, you have to let us through," Alfred said.

"I can't just do that, Al," his brother looked horrified. "That wouldn't be right. B-besides…"

"What the Hell, dude?" he looked aghast at his brother. "The one time I ask you to back me up and you don't?"

"U-um, that's not necessarily true," Matthew looked uncomfortable. "There have been plenty of times when I've stood up for you and-"

"What's going on?" Roderich peered round.

"You never said you'd be a judge, either," there was an accusatory tone in Alfred's voice as he said this.

"No, I didn't," Roderich replied. "I had no reason to do so."

"No reason?" Alfred gaped. "No reason, other than the fact you've been guiding us through learning our piece for the past month or so."

"That's not good enough a reason to tell you about my position," Roderich shrugged. "Oh, and stop trying to bully Matthew into giving you a perfect ten score. It's not going to happen."

"I can tell I have the support of you two," Alfred replied sarcastically.

"Well, you shall have to wait and see," Roderich shrugged. "By the way, try and have a little enthusiasm when you perform. That's coming from Edelstein the teacher, not Edelstein the judge."

"What does Edelstein the judge currently say?" Alfred asked.

Roderich glanced at him over his shoulder as he guided Matthew away. "You shall have to wait and see."

With that, he was gone.

"I have a bad feeling," Ivan groaned.

"Oh, by the way, _you_ ," Francis turned on him. "I heard you tried to get Alfred to not audition."

Ivan looked alarmed. "Did you, now?"

Francis nodded. "I expect to see you all smiling as you stand on that stage."

 **F.B.**

In truth, Francis was anxious that Arthur had yet to make an appearance. It seemed Alfred's mood depended on him turning up, and since it looked as if Arthur wasn't going to show, he worried about Alfred's mood.

He watched another act go by, and then another, until Yao, who was also looking out the curtains commented: "I don't think he's coming."

"No, neither," Alfred replied bleakly. "I think he got caught up with… more important things…"

 **Y.W.**

He let the curtain fall in place and checked the rota. "I think we're up after this next act."

Francis nodded. "Make it count. This audition depends on the three of you getting through."

"Arthur's still not here," Alfred worried, peering round the side once more and scanning the few people who were seated on the benches.

It seemed his friend still had high hopes Arthur would show. Yao had already dropped that chance, and had barely expected him to arrive when Arthur himself had said so. However, Alfred was pinning his hopes on him, which both worried him and inspired him to hope Arthur would come.

"It's alright, Alfred," Ivan said.

Alfred brushed him off. "Bathroom break."

He left without further explanation, however, Yao was unconvinced that Alfred would return. In his own head, he was only here because Alfred was. If Alfred quit, then he would, too, and he was sure that same idea followed for Ivan. It was only Francis who was as committed as Alfred seemed to be, and even he would be fine with letting this audition go.

"He'll be fine," Yao said with a shrug, even though he didn't fully believe himself.

 **A.J.**

The bathroom was cold. There was a sink that continuously dripped. He wondered if he should remain here rather than audition? He recalled his mother's face that morning, that look of mild anxiousness for his wellbeing. It would be stupid to suddenly fail to appear.

Standing, he walked and looked at himself in the mirror. Francis was right: he really was looking like a shadow of his former self. With a sigh, Alfred splashed some water on his face.

He was acting ridiculous.

"He's such an asshole," he said aloud, remembering how Arthur had said he'd show up.

 _I ask him for this one thing,_ he thought bitterly. _All he had to do was appear – that's all I asked – and yet, his pride stops him doing this one thing?_

He remembered that morning, having ridden his bike to a small river and sitting there until he was supposed to go to school. He remembered looking at his reflection that morning, as he was doing now, and thinking: _Do I really need Arthur?_

"No," he realised. "You don't. You're Alfred, and he's Arthur."

His reflection looked back at him, a young man with a haggard appearance. It was time to leave.

 **A.K.**

His head was still throbbing as a light flickered on in the room. Blinking, disorientated, Arthur glanced around. There was a pause, and then a timed, rhythmic clicking as someone approached him. He felt dull, his senses tired, and everything around him seemed as if it was happening in a hazy, yet strangely vivid dream.

"Arthur?" she said, lifting his chin to look her in the eye. "Are you happy to see me?"

His mouth couldn't form any words, and he felt dumb to reality.

"Are you happy to see me?" she asked, smiling silkily.

He didn't answer.

"Are you ready?" she sat on a stool in front of him, allowing his head to lull back down.

He remained silent, but his thoughts were concentrated on one thing: ready for what?

 **A.J.**

All heads turned to him as he approached from his bathroom break. Francis blew out a breath of relief.

"Thank goodness," he said. "We weren't sure if you'd come back. Are you OK?"

"I haven't felt better," Alfred rolled his shoulders and slung a guitar on.

"You're still doing this?" Ivan asked.

"No backing out now," he replied. "Besides, it'd be wrong to do so."

Ivan looked disappointed.

"Uh, next up, we have… Freedom and the… Coms?" Ludwig read from the other side.

"You're up," Francis said. "Good luck."

"I don't need luck," Alfred smiled. "I have talent – and I'm Alfred fucking Jones; I can do anything."

He pushed open the curtains and walked out into the lights.

* * *

 **A/N:** _I sometimes question whether I always leave these chapters on a good note, or a bad one... You guys can decide on that one. For this chapter, I'm not entirely sure of what the ending's mood in? I feel both worry for Arthur and hope for Alfred. I suppose we shall just have to wait and see what happens..._

 _Until next time!_

 _Natalya Braginsky:_ Belarus  
 _Yong Soo Im:_ South Korea  
 _Matthew Jones:_ Canada  
 _Roderich Edelstein:_ Austria


	32. Chapter 31

**A/N:** _Hey everyone! Sorry for a late post (again), and I'm sorry my tardiness seems to be becoming routine! It was just me and me mam last night, and I was spending time with her and just didn't get around to uploading. So, very sorry!_

 _We were watching 'The Good Wife', if anyone knows that programme. I'm six seasons behind (as in, I haven't even watched the first episode), but I watched a couple episodes with my mum in Season 6 anyway, and it looks really good, and she highly suggested I get around to watching it from the start, so I think I shall do that._

 _Anyway, without further ado, Gakutalia!_

* * *

 **L.B.**

"Uh, next up, we have…" for a moment, he couldn't believe his eyes when he saw what was written on the page. "Freedom and the… Coms?"

Raising his head, he saw the curtains get pushed aside to reveal none over than Alfred Jones, accompanied by Yao Wang and Ivan Braginsky. He should've expected one of the loudest characters in his form and year to get involved with the Talent Show. With a name like that, however, Freedom and the Coms had already made a bad impression on him.

He turned his head to the side and somehow found himself sharing a glance with Roderich.

"OK, you're Freedom and the Coms?" he asked, looking back at the three.

"That's right," Alfred replied confidently. "We are."

"Hmm, OK – let's hear your performance," he sat back in his chair, and awaited something awful.

 **A.K.**

"Where is he?" Miss Morbrey asked, crossing her legs and looking at him intently.

Although she still wore one of her trademark pairs of heels, his teacher had changed her attire to something completely different. She wore tight black leggings, what appeared to be a tank top of the same colour and a jacket shrugged on top. She had chosen to tie her hair back, and in her lap rested a pistol.

 _She has gun_ , Arthur thought. _I'm going to die._

"Are you talking?" she prompted, leaning forwards and touching his face, although there was no tenderness there. "Maybe this might prompt you?"

She whacked him across the face with the barrel of her gun. There was a raw pain in his cheek. His heart started beating wildly as terror sunk in.

"Where is he?" she repeated.

"Where is who?" he finally managed to reply.

"Who do you think?" she snapped, standing and prowling around his chair.

"I don't know," he insisted, trying to scoot away but the seat was bolted to the ground. "I have no idea who you're talking about."

"Yes, you do," she said from behind. "You know exactly who I'm talking about."

"No, I don't," he grimaced, wondering what was to become of him. "Just let me leave. I don't know what you want to hear…"

"But you know him?" he felt her hand on his shoulder.

"Who?" he said. "Who is ' _him_ '?"

"Vurkel, Arthur," she finally replied. "Vurkel. You know full well who Vurkel is. Now, tell me where he is."

"Mr Vurkel?" he blinked. "How should _I_ know where he is? He left school about a year ago and I…"

"Haven't seen him since?" she sounded sceptical. "That's bullshit if I ever heard it."

"I haven't," he lied, pretending he'd never seen his teacher the night of Yao's birthday party.

"Please don't lie to me," she said, walking back around and bending over to look him straight in the eye. "Bad things happen to people who lie to me."

"I'm not lying," he lied again.

"I know you're lying, _Kirkland_ , because the night I saw you with him was also the night I took your phone," she hissed.

"Wh-what?" he looked at her and frowned.

"You moron," she purred. "Don't you recognise me?"

"Wait, how did you get my phone?" he stared at her.

"You were pissed," she replied. "You didn't notice when I never gave it back, and Vurkel never realised I had it."

"But I never saw you," he said. "I think I would've recognised one of my teachers, but I saw Mr Vurkel on an empty car park when…"

The more he thought about that night, the more obvious things became for him. He looked at Miss Morbrey more closely and began to make those connections, something that had never dawned on him before. How could he not recognise his teacher when she'd been right in front of him for most of the night?

"You," he said. "You were the woman that night."

"I was," she nodded, suddenly adopting the same American accent she'd used that night. "Clever boy! I'd almost say you deserve merits for guessing that, but since your goal was to have sex with me that night, you lose all favour."

Arthur felt a sudden flush rise to his face. But then… why had Miss Morbrey been there? More importantly, why had she targeted him, who was obviously a student from her school, whom she saw almost every day?

"But…" he looked at her. "How? _Why_?"

"I need information on Vurkel," she said flatly. "Therefore, I'm the one asking questions, not you. Where is he?"

"I don't know."

"Why are you defending him?" she said. "For him to have come at that exact moment, when it seemed I had you right in my grasp, must mean you two are close. Tell me. Where is Vurkel hiding?"

"I don't know," he repeated. "Please, I know nothing. I was just as surprised at his appearance as you were."

"That's a lie," she replied. "I want the truth from you Kirkland. If you tell me honestly, I'd even feel more willing to let you go, just like that, so long as you kept quiet."

"You're the one lying, now," he said. "Why would you let me leave? Even if I do commit myself to keeping silent, you could never take that risk. Now that I'm here, you _have_ to kill me."

"I've watched you for months and months, Kirkland," she sighed, sitting on the stool and assessing him. "As my student, I really thought I had you sussed, especially when you, alongside the rest of your classmates, looked at me as if I was a goddess. I've lived my life being observed as a sexual object by men. However, it helps with manipulation, so I'm not going to be one to tone it down. Yet, sex appeal didn't seem to work on you – or, at least, my best opportunity was wasted.

"I'd planned to keep things simple, especially since you're young," she shrugged. "I'm cold and cruel, but I'm not _heartless._ My plan was to get you pissed so you'd spill everything in a drunken declaration of love, only to have no recollection the next day. That didn't work, because Vurkel made an appearance there and then, and I had informers letting me know he had backup. I wasn't prepared at all, and I fucking hated that. I'm one of the best agents known – because nobody knows my identity. Do you know anything about what Vurkel actually does?"

Arthur shook his head. "He's just an ex-teacher, in my eyes."

She shrugged. "Maybe I misjudged you, then. You seemed abnormally friendly, or close, or whatever. If it wasn't for the fact you were completely smitten with me after too much alcohol, I'd think you were gay- or asexual. However, you know nothing. It seems such a waste of life, but you're right. I can't let you leave here alive. You know too much."

"How is Mr Vurkel connected with you?" he asked. "Considering I won't be living for much longer and all…"

"You're an arrogant bastard," she smirked. "Hmm, well, we used to work together, but now we don't – personal reasons. The gist is, we're enemies, and he has information about a certain someone that I want. I thought you were connected – I really did think that. I went to the extent of watching you in your everyday activities. How sad is that? To have been so wrong…"

"We all make bad decisions," he said.

"Don't go recycling my words," she warned. "No matter how correct I was in the past. Besides, I nearly had you. Almost a month ago…"

"What?" he stared blankly at her.

"Please don't tell me you think I've been working alone?" she asked, and then laughed when he continued to give her the same confused stare. "Well, I'll call my colleague and do some explaining whilst he makes his way here."

She whipped out her own phone, and had a brief conversation that lasted barely more than a minute – she seemed to speak in Italian. Setting her phone on her lap, she regarded him once more with the same look of mild disdain.

"Where were we?" she frowned. "Ah, yes. So, those gunshots you heard the night Vurkel appeared? I staged them. It was a test to see if anything would happen, should you be in danger. I knew he wouldn't know my face, but I was aware he'd be there. His colleagues threw me off. I thought I could get him there and then. I couldn't. I never realised the two of you would actually know one another…"

"You planned all that based on a hunch?" he stared at her in disbelief.

"An educated hunch," she answered. "After joining his former position workplace, I learnt from staffroom gossip that you'd been quite the favourite of Vurkel's students. Naturally I had to target you, especially with the rumours flying around the staffroom on his disappearance. I had hoped; I was wrong. Although… Vurkel threw his life in for you when you appeared on the scene. I am wondering, although…"

The door swung open and in walked a face Arthur thought he'd never see again. A cigarette hung from his lips, a trail of smoke wafting up into the air. Today, a grey bowler hat was worn, and the person wore a grey suit to match – black shirt, top two buttons left open, a silver chain necklace round his throat. It was the man on the night of the car chase.

"Lookee what we 'ave 'ere," he mused, taking a few steps forwards and peering into Arthur's face. "A shit."

"Oh, Vinni, not too close," Miss Morbrey said. "He might kiss you. He seems to have a habit of doing that."

'Vinni' sniggered and leant away, a bemused expression in his eyes, before he turned to Miss Morbrey and asked: "So how'd ya get 'im an' why we keepin' him?"

"Bait," she responded. "We'll take a video and send it to the authorities. They won't want to act immediately, but Vurkel will. He'll be right on his way."

"Ah, I see," Vinni took a drag on the cigarette and blew smoke in Arthur's face. "An' ya need my 'elp for the vid?"

"Precisely," she smiled cruelly, whilst Arthur spluttered. "Send one of your guys to get me a camera."

"How are you involved?" Arthur blurted out, looking at Vinni, who was leaving the room.

"I work with him," Miss Morbrey replied. "Colleagues, partners in crime. I sent him after you that night on Hallowe'en."

" _What_?" Arthur couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"You 'eard 'er right, shit," Vinni said, returning. "I came affta ya when Eris called me up."

"But how did you find me?" he blinked. "How did you know I would be out at that time in that place exactly?"

"Your phone, sweetie," Miss Morbrey smirked. "I bugged it, tapped into your calls, located your house and slipped a tracking device behind your ear. You would never know."

"Why not just kidnap me there and then?" he demanded.

"Because I'd hoped you'd lead me the way to Vurkel," she scowled. "Taking you hostage was something I wanted to avoid. Unfortunately, it went nowhere, so I sent Vinni to get you."

One of the large men from that night arrived, and placed a camera in Vinni's hands. Carefully, he handed it to Miss Morbrey, whilst the third lumbering figure remained silent in the corner of the room.

"Alright, Arthur," Miss Morbrey smiled as she took the camera from Vinni and started filming. "How are you today?"

 **A.J.**

He had never played with such energy before. Each vocal and guitar chord felt like it held a part of his soul inside. He heard the music around, and suddenly felt uplifted by it. He could have just as good a time without Arthur. Even Yao managed a smile during the performance, although Ivan remained stoically slamming at the drums.

 _We've come a long way,_ he smiled to himself, bowing and beaming as the few audience clapped and the judges joined the applause.

"Um, OK, Freedom and the Coms, you did well," Ludwig nodded. "Yes, um, well. I-"

"Can I go first?" Feliks Lukasiewicz, who sat to his right, on the end, lifted his hand.

"Of course," Ludwig said, and sat back.

"You were good," he pointed at Ivan. "You were as well, actually-" that was to Yao. "-and you, like, totally, you sucked."

"Wh-what?" Alfred blinked.

"I'm not trying to be _too_ offensive, but your voice kind of grated on me," Feliks continued. "Whilst the other two were nice, you just shouldn't have sung. At all. For that, you guys can only get a five from me."

He held up the little placard of doom with the horribly low number on it. He had heard you only needed twenty-five out of forty to get through, though… He glanced at the others. Ludwig looked along the table as Matthew raised his hand.

"Um, Matthew goes next," he said.

Alfred's brother turned to them with a sympathetic expression on his face. "I think all three of you have tried extremely hard on this, and I believe the result is absolutely spectacular – I really enjoyed seeing your effort and how much you've dedicated to this, so I'll give you an eight."

"Yes, dude," Alfred hissed under his breath, seeing his brother hold up his eight placard.

"OK," Ludwig shared a glance with Roderich and then nodded. "I'll go next. Like Matthew, I appreciate good effort, and I'm glad you took this seriously. Not to mention, your enthusiasm was off the charts, which is why I'll definitely be giving you a seven."

Ludwig smiled a little as he held up his placard, and Alfred felt his heart soaring. Finally, there was Roderich. He knew his teacher probably wouldn't go too hard on him, after all the time they'd spent together working on this music.

"OK," Roderich stacked his comment papers and assessed the three of them carefully. "You truly did have effort and enthusiasm, however, the quality in which you played was mediocre, your singing was less than average, and the whole time I was seeing Ivan's miserable expression behind those drums, almost as if he didn't want to be there."

"Not too harsh, Roderich," Ludwig looked surprised.

"No, this is personal," Roderich stood, looking agitated. "For months, I spent hoping and wanting _you_ , Alfred, to develop as a musician, but you have consistently ignored my advice. I expected you to walk on that stage and give me at most an eight standard performance. However, that's not the case. Yao, I tried so desperately hard for you to have complete enthusiasm, but halfway through, you seemed to _remember_ to smile. Ivan, I've already pointed out that you were almost glowering at the crowd. I had really hoped but… I will give you…"

They currently only needed five. Roderich had been harsh, but he'd sincerely wanted them to pass and succeed – he'd even said so himself. Alfred watched with anticipation as Roderich held up a placard – his heart skipped a beat and…

* * *

 **A/N:** _Yay for cliffhangers! I'm definitely leaving things there for you to mull over. Will Freedom and the Coms make it to the Talent Show? And what will happen to Arthur? Until next time!_

 _Feliks Lukasiewicz:_ Poland  
 _Matthew Jones:_ Canada  
 _Roderich Edelstein:_ Austria


	33. Chapter 32

**A/N:** _Wow, everyone, it's been a really tough week, especially for some people I know at school. It's made me realise just how cruel some people can be, intentional or no, and that's it's so important to just stop and really consider what you say, especially when it's typed. I hate to think anyone has been victim to terrible comments, and my full sympathies go out to everyone who's been affected, especially as the issue has hit so close to home. I think that it's so important to get along with your school community, especially as there are already enough people in the world who are out to hurt you._

 _I know it's a Friday, so I don't want to make the weekend too gloomy, but I think these things are always important to consider, especially since schools now give so much education on it. I find it very saddening that people would still go out of their way to hurt others, even knowing how much an impact it can cause, based on life skills sessions given at school._

 _Thank you very much, and on that note, I would like to thank **totallyignorable** for loving Gakutalia just as much, if not more, than I do! Your support is highly appreciated!_

* * *

 **A.J.**

Alfred's world cracked and broke all around him. He'd never expected Roderich to suddenly turn on him like that. His heart sank and he watched the four lingering in the air. One more point and he would be through. However, that wasn't the case.

"Ah, OK," Ludwig said. "We'll get back to you in a week's time."

Alfred knew there'd be no reply. They hadn't reached the score number.

Deflated, he nodded absently. "Thanks."

Without awaiting another response, he turned and pushed his way through the curtains once more. He unslung the guitar and dumped it beside Francis's feet.

"I heard what happened," Francis worried. "Don't be disheartened. Please, Alfred. It was fun, wasn't it? Can you at least say it was-"

"Not right now, Francis," Alfred brushed past him. "I'm not in the mood."

"Hey, Al," Matthew ducked round, a horrified expression on his face. "I'm sorry about what hap-"

"Don't even talk to me," Alfred turned angrily. "Jesus, Matt, all I wanted was to get through this. All you had to do was give me either a nine, or a ten. That's all. Would it have killed you to give me sympathy points? Would it kill you?"

"Al, please," Matthew frowned. "It's not my-"

"Not your fault?" Alfred glowered. "No, I guess it isn't. It's fucking Edelstein's fault. That bastard can't put his ego away for _one minute_."

"He's just a judge," Matthew insisted.

"The _bastard_ said it was personal, and it was," Alfred said. "That's why he wanted to go last. He wanted to see us up there, embarrassing ourselves for the whole fucking panel to see, just so he could slam us down."

"I'm not sure that's not-" Matthew began.

"What? Do you see him here now?" Alfred gestured around frantically, as Matthew flinched back. "Do you see him coming back here saying it was better this way or some crap like that? I don't, unless he's turned invisible all of a fucking sudden."

"Alfred, calm down," Ivan scolded, pushing his way through the curtains. "Don't take this out on Matthew. We didn't pass the auditions – whatever."

"You wanted this the whole damn time," Alfred pointed at him. "This is exactly how you wanted things to go."

"What are you talking about?" Ivan threw his hands up.

"If there was anyone else I could point a finger to other than Roderich at the moment, then it would be _you_ ," he said.

"Me?" Ivan said flatly. "What have I done now?"

"Throughout this whole thing you've been miserably sitting behind your drums," Alfred snapped. "You heard Edelstein. His _first_ criticism was your stupid expression, acting like you've been treated like shit. All you had to do was smile and he'd have given us one extra point for enthusiasm. But _no_. You couldn't do that, because you never wanted to be in the band in the first place."

"Oh, for fu-"

"Don't even begin to talk back, Ivan," Alfred continued. "We could've got more points if I and Yao were a two man band."

"How did this _all_ become my fault?" Ivan scowled. "Feliks said your voice sucked. I bet you'd be much more accepting if it was Arthur in the band."

"I wouldn't have to be feeling the loss," Alfred retorted. "Because even Arthur, the most miserable person on this planet, could be more enthusiastic than you. You're always ruining these things for me."

"What?" Ivan blinked.

"My luck went downhill ever since you started hanging around us in Year Ten," Alfred accused.

"OK, OK, let's think for a moment-" Francis stepped forwards.

"No, I want to hear this," Ivan said calmly. "What is it about me, Alfred? Why do you hate me so much?"

"I-it's just _you_ in general," Alfred ranted. "You're always there, nearby, acting superior, patronising me, treating me like I'm _so much younger_ than everyone else. I think one of my worst decisions this year had been letting you join the band; I should've known you'd ruin it like the wet weekend you are. You're right, Ivan; I'd have been much better off if Arthur had been playing the drums instead of you."

Alfred watched Ivan's jaw tighten as he looked away.

"Whatever, dude," Alfred stepped away from them all. "Just what the fuck ever. I don't care anymore."

"You obviously do," Ivan said.

"You don't know me, so stop pretending you do," Alfred replied. "As a matter of fact, Ivan, you fuck right off."

"What?" Ivan frowned.

"Alfred," Francis warned.

"I don't care what happens after this, so long as I don't have to speak with you again," Alfred said. "You and I are just too different. I should've known we'd eventually come to blows like this when we didn't immediately bond all those years back."

"OK, Alfred," Yao ran down the steps from the curtains. "Just stop."

"No, Yao, you did alright, dude," Alfred winced. "They liked you the best. This guy? Nobody fucking likes him."

"You don't mean this," Francis said.

"I do," Alfred said coldly. "I mean it for both Ivan and Matthew. Do you wanna know why? Because they're _both a couple of complete let-downs._ Teaches me not to have faith in everyone, right?"

Alfred turned on his heel and started storming away.

"Al, _where_ are you going?" Matthew asked.

"Home," he replied, over his shoulder. "No – not home. Because _you'll_ be there. Just away."

"Don't just wander off, Al," Matthew begged. "Mum and Dad will be worried, eh?"

"Fuck off, Matt," Alfred slammed the door shut behind him and stormed down the corridor.

His throat was sore from the shouting, and he felt angry, upset and just hurt. He was hurting inside and he didn't know why. Everything had gone so horribly wrong, and he was hurting because of it.

"Alfred, wait!" Ivan called, running through the door.

"Why the fuck are you following me?" he yelled over his shoulder.

Ivan groaned. "I'm your _friend_ , Alfred. Just stop. You're upset. You lost. OK, big deal. We'll go for a burger later, da? You'll feel better."

"Piss off, Ivan," he didn't want anyone to see him crying, but his vision was going blurry.

"No, just stop," Ivan caught up to him and turned him round. "Just stop. You're really upset about this, geez. Alfred, it's not the end of the world. We can still be a band, da? Are you happy? I'll willingly be in a leisurely band with you."

"I hate you," Alfred said flatly and Ivan stopped in his tracks. "I hate you so much right now. It's not just losing – I feel _betrayed_ ; by my brother, by Arthur, by Roderich, even you. You're so selfish. Why didn't you realise the judges would look for enthusiasm? Why didn't you just put yourself aside and enjoy what we were doing?"

"Alfred, I'm sorry I didn't smile enough," Ivan looked away. "I enjoy things sile-"

"Can't you tell when I just want you to _go away_?" Alfred retorted and Ivan winced. "Can't you tell that I don't want to see you?"

"Wait, I – we can-" Ivan tried.

"Just go away, Ivan," Alfred backed away.

Ivan grabbed his shoulder. "Alfred, I-"

"Just _get out of my life_ ," he threw Ivan's hand off his shoulder and fled, running down the corridor, without glancing over his shoulder at the other student.

This time, Ivan didn't follow.

 **A.K.**

There was a slight sweat all over his body. He was shuddering, his ragged breaths echoing around the vast and empty room. He remained tied to that godforsaken chair. He was alone. Miss Morbrey, actually called Eris, was long gone, as were Vinni and his henchman. The room had become timeless. He didn't know when they'd left, he was just aware when someone had come to force some food down his throat, and even they'd been gone for some time.

If he let his head loll down, then the blood from his nose would just run. He didn't think it was broken, but it hurt. A lot. His face was probably black and blue, and one wrist was extremely painful from when Vinni had knocked the chair aside. He'd only recently been picked up.

As for his hands… He didn't want to think about those… He just remembered… no, he didn't need a reminder. All he felt was a numbing pain for those. They had hurt his face, but his hands…

He whimpered from the memory and squeezed his eyes shut, the pathetic noise echoing around the room. To think he was going to visit Alfred and see how his performance went.

A wry smile found it's way to his face. He hoped it had gone fine. He hoped Alfred and all the others were alright. All he knew was that they were doing better off than him. It was because of this reflection on their ordinary lives that Arthur was able to smile.

Would they miss him when he was gone? He liked to think their reactions would be horrified when the news of his disappearance was relayed to them. Would they cry? Alfred might – he was emotional. Francis? No. He didn't want to think about him. What if the death of his best friend broke him? No. He really ought not to think on the bad imprint he would leave on Francis' life.

He worried the most about Alfred and Francis, because they'd known him longer. He knew Alfred would be distraught, because, no matter how stupid he could be, they definitely had a strong friendship. As for Francis? It would be like losing more of his family. He hoped Francis would be able to recover; he didn't want to see him break like Mrs Bonnefoy did over the death of his father. That would be too much for him.

There were footsteps – those damned heels – and Eris crouched down to look at him, her expression smug.

"It's only a matter of time now, Arthur," she said. "I hope you feel honoured to be part of the death of Vurkel. He's a pretty good agent. Your status would be exceedingly good in the short amount of life you'd have left."

"Just kill me now," he murmured, his voice ragged and raw. They really limited his water intake.

She slammed her heel into his stomach. He was already sore all over, and the chair stopped him curling into a foetal position.

"Don't make demands," she hissed. "You're the hostage. Do you want me to get Vinni to come back and finish what he started with those lovely hands of yours?"

"Please don't," he whispered, staring into space.

"You didn't like that, did you?" she leant closer, so they were almost eye level. "There are _worse_ things, though, kid. I'm not afraid to turn to those methods."

He didn't answer – replying only put him in a worse situation. She scrutinised him for a moment before deciding he wouldn't speak. She left the room, leaving him in the darkness. Mr Vurkel would die because of him. That was assuming he would even come. There was no guaranteeing that he would. Arthur lay there, once more alone in the silence.

 **A.J.**

In a rage, he tucked his bike helmet into his bag and hopped on his bike. He was just readying himself to leave when he heard Matthew calling.

"Al, just wait a moment," his brother was running down the road. "Mum will be here soon, eh? Just wait for her come."

"Go away, dude," Alfred pushed off the ground and wheeled his bike forwards. "I'm not in the mood."

"Al," Matthew called after him as he rode along.

Alfred ignored him, instead balancing on his bike to shove his headphones in, and then grasping the handlebars just in time to turn off into the main road, just past the bus stop.

He steered himself on his foot and swung onto the bike path, shooting along, the music loud in his ears.

He would go back to that river, because it was peaceful there. Alfred would be able to clear his head and think things through.

To get to the river, you had to take a trip across the road to get to the secluded footpath that led him to that particular place. He swung out without thinking, and gawked as a car braked and knocked him off the bike.

Panicked he sat up and checked himself, only to find he was alive and well.

"Jesus, why don't kids ever check the road," someone cursed, stepping out and pulling him to his feet. "Are you OK?"

He looked up and instantly recognised his former teacher Mr Vurkel.

"Whoa," he blinked.

"Shit, Alfred?" Mr Vurkel blinked.

"Dude, this is weird," Alfred said.

"Are you OK?" his ex-teacher asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he dusted himself off. "Just… shaken?"

"Is your bike still working?" Mr Vurkel stood it up and looked at the large dent in the front wheel. "No. I'll give you a lift home."

"I'm not headed home," Alfred replied. "Just… to the river across the road."

"I don't think that's wise, unless you want your parents to come get you," Vurkel replied, which is what Alfred didn't want.

"Fine," he shrugged, and loaded his broken bike into Vurkel's car. "Thanks."

"Not a problem," Mr Vurkel said awkwardly as Alfred stepped into the passenger seat.

They set off, slowly, because there was a lot of traffic. Alfred noticed Mr Vurkel kept glancing at the time.

"If you need to be somewhere," Alfred said numbly. "I'll just call my parents."

"No, it's just… eh," Mr Vurkel winced. "Do you value Arthur's life?"

"What?" Alfred blinked.

"Look, I honestly can't say I have time to stop again," Mr Vurkel admitted. "If you promise to stay in the car, I'll bring you along."

"Where are you – um, _we_ going?" Alfred asked worriedly.

"Alfred, I need you to know this isn't a joke," Vurkel replied, turning off the main road and speeding down a more secluded one. "Arthur's life is currently in danger, and I need you to cooperate. Stay in the car and just wait for my return. If I'm not back and you see or hear someone coming, drive away."

"What?" Alfred stared. "What is this? What's going on?"

"Alfred, just listen to what I've said," Mr Vurkel said anxiously. "If you do, your life will be preserved."

"Mr Vurkel, is Arthur really in danger?" he asked, looking at his ex-teacher's face, which suddenly appeared much older.

"Yes," he answered.

"OK, then," Alfred paused to consider what had said. Despite the news, he felt strangely collected. "What do I need to do?"

"Stay in the car, and wait for me," Mr Vurkel parked in the darkness of the forest and stepped out, slamming the door shut behind him.

Alfred watched his teacher walk away, wondering what Arthur had gotten himself into, and what had happened to him.

* * *

 **A/N** : _Thank you for all your support in Gakutalia, and all the lovely reviews. Until next time~_

 _Matthew Jones:_ Canada  
 _Roderich Edelstein:_ Austria  
 _Feliks Lukasiewicz:_ Poland


	34. Chapter 33

**A/N:** _Hello, everyone! I've finished school for the Easter break, and I'm so happy! I went to see Ellie Goulding and she was absolutely amazing. She was performing mostly songs from her new album 'Delirium', which I highly recommend for those who like electronic pop, but also played a couple songs from 'Halcyon'/'Halcyon Days'. She was so nice! John Newman was a starter act and was also very good. The pair of them were so enthusiastic, and I was just amazed at the quality of their singing. I'm so glad that I managed to see Ellie, though, because I've loved her even since her 'Lights' album and I've basically got all of her songs! I'm a fan, aha!_

 _Thank you for sticking with Gakutalia everyone, and have a Happy Easter. I **might**_ _post an Easter special, but don't quote me on that one... Without further ado, here is the next chapter of Gakutalia!_

* * *

 **A.J.**

The sun was beginning to lower in the sky. He sat in the car, patiently waiting for Mr Vurkel to return with Arthur in tow. Nothing seemed to happen. Time passed. Alfred grew all the more anxious.

Suddenly, his phone started to buzz. He looked at the screen and saw Matthew's name flashing. With a long sigh, he declined the call. Sinking down into the chair, he kept an eye out for any approaching figures.

 **F.B.**

"He won't answer," Matthew said dejectedly, lowering the phone and gritting his teeth together. "I knew I should've talked him out of this, the moment he said he was interested in the Talent Show. He gets so worked up about these things…"

"No, really, I haven't helped," Francis said. "For this entire time, I've been making him feel like he's on tour, what with calling myself the manager and everything."

"I can't believe he…" Yao just shook his head and looked towards Ivan, who was sitting on the side of the path, staring blankly at his phone.

"How is he?" Francis whispered.

"Red alert, non-responsive," Yao replied in a loud indoor voice.

Never had Francis thought things would fall apart so easily. He watched Ivan in sympathy. He felt liable to take the blame for Alfred's excessive enthusiasim for Freedom and the Coms. He had pushed for this to happen.

"Maybe I should never have reconciled you three into wanting to be in the band," Francis sighed.

They watched as Ivan called someone, lowered the phone, stared and sighed. Francis had heard Alfred's screamed words. He knew that Ivan was probably extremely upset, possibly angry about what had happened.

However, not a single abusive word had come from Ivan's lips. It was mainly himself and Yao, who had fumed and ranted about how terribly Alfred had treated his friend and brother. It was difficult to tell what Ivan was thinking – it was even harder when you wanted to know what he was thinking.

"I want to help him but I don't know what to do," Francis said.

"My brother was awful to him," Matthew shook his head. "Poor Ivan. All he did was try and help me, as well as try to reason with him. Al's just so far gone at the moment…"

"Don't apologise for him," Yao looked surprised. "He's in the wrong; no offence to your brother."

"O-oh, no, I- I don't think what he said is right at all," Matthew looked upset. "I just don't know what I'm going to say to mum when she comes to come get me…"

"Tell her the truth," Francis sighed. "Tell her that Alfred was angry, that he took his bike, and rode away, just like that."

Matthew frowned. "And about the lack of response? It's worrying that he's declining my calls…"

"He's running on steam at the moment, Matthew," Francis replied. "Bear with him, if you want a response. He's angry, and brash, so some reckless decisions are likely to be made."

"Eh, but I do worry," Matthew said, and looked even more distressed as Ivan lifted the phone to his ear again, paused, then lowered it once more. "He's not the smartest of people, even when he's thinking clearly."

"You can say that again, aru," Yao folded his arms. "When I see him, I'm going to throttle him."

"I'll join the line," Francis said, and then looked at Matthew, alarmed. "Sorry."

"Honestly, I understand how you guys are feeling at the moment," Matthew grimaced as Ivan tried the phone a third time. "Maybe I should talk to _him_?"

Francis looked at his Russian friend, whose face expression revealed nothing, other than quiet indifference. He wasn't sure if it was words Ivan needed, or if they were even the right people to offer those words.

"You could try," he watched Ivan give a fourth attempt. "OK, please try. He needs company."

Matthew began to approach Ivan, who suddenly set his phone on the ground beside him, and put his head in between his knees.

"He turned his phone off," he said bleakly. "It won't even ring now."

"Don't worry about him," Matthew sat beside Ivan. "Al just needs time. For now, though, are you OK?"

Ivan raised his head and looked at him dazedly. "What?"

 _Things are worse than I thought,_ Francis thought with a grimace, and shared an awkward glance with Yao.

 **A.J.**

The sky had fully darkened when Alfred decided to break the rules.

Too long had he waited for Mr Vurkel to return, but he hadn't seen any danger, either. Peering around, he saw people patrolling with flashlights. With a frown, Alfred crawled over into the driver's seat, and started the car. It purred silently into ignition – he could only admire the wonderful vehicle.

Rather than fiddle around with the car, Alfred checked the car's storage for another weapon. He found a gun, but it only had one bullet, and he didn't want to be shooting anyone either. He slipped out of the car and opened the boot, where his bike lay. Dragging the useless contraption out, he hauled the bike across the ground and laid it behind the car.

He desperately hoped his plan would work. Mr Vurkel's car was moderately powerful. Getting back into the driver's seat, Alfred pulled it into reverse. The car shot backwards, tilting over the bike. He jerked forwards, then back, hearing a loud snap from beneath the car, as well as a whistling of air. He forced the car forwards, until it slumped to the side.

He dropped out, grimaced at the punctured wheel, but then dragged out the shattered remains of his bike. His finished it off, snapping the handles off entirely, and brandishing it like a weapon. He weighed it in his hands, and then grabbed the gun (just in case if he needed to make some threats).

Alfred ducked down into the shrubbery and looked towards the building. It looked like a mixture between a prison and a warehouse. The darkness would have to shield him. He was the hero – he could do anything if he put his mind to it.

Alfred Jones waited in the shrubbery, biding his time. He could see two guards patrolling around the front, but he noticed a third hanging around near the corner. Like a panther in the wilderness, he prowled along, eyes trained on that third guard, who would dip either side to check around that area. It was the most intense first person shooter game he'd ever played- or experienced, more like.

Assessing the area, Alfred quickly conducted a plan in his mind.

With a shaking hand, he aimed at one of the windows above the two guards at the entrance. He inhaled deeply until his head steadied a little. He pulled the trigger, squeezing his eyes shut as the gun kicked back and the window shattered.

Grimacing he fled from the spot – however, the two guards at the entrance were more focused on the broken window above their heads. It was his corner guard that had heard the shot fired – Alfred didn't know how to work guns and silencers. With great effort, he pulled himself up into the nearest tree, waiting with horror as the third guard approached. He would have to time this with care.

 _Think about all the video games and comics you've read,_ Alfred thought, watching the guard wander out until he stood below him.

With a certain lack of grace, Alfred dropped down from the tree and landed on the guard.

"What the-" he began, but then grabbed Alfred's forearms and hauled him over.

Alfred kicked his gun away before he was shot. In mid-reach, the guard gritted his teeth together as Alfred planted both feet on his chest and forced him off Batman-style.

 _You can be just as good at fighting as the Dark Knight is_ , Alfred leapt to his feet and watched the guard lunging for the gun. _You are the Batfred._

He swung the bike handles and caught the man on the back of the head. The man slumped forward, but then his hand reached for his weapon once more. Panicked, Alfred swung the bike handle once more and watched, horrified, as he finally went out cold.

Relaxing a little, Alfred turned and watched the other two guards still investigating the nearby premises of the shattered window. Crouching beside the man, he reached under his armpits, and began to drag him along.

The common sense thing to do, in Alfred's head, was not to leave the man dazed on the floor for dead. Luckily, his head wasn't bleeding, but that didn't mean he was fine. Carefully, Alfred returned to Mr Vurkel's car, and dragged the man into the back, with great effort.

The next part was awkward. Build-wise, Alfred was around the same as the guard, which was extremely fortunate. He removed his uniform with a frown. He was wearing clothes underneath, but Alfred just needed his gear. He tied firm knots around the guard using the bungee cord in the back of the car. Taking off his school tie, he bundled that up and wedged the material into the man's mouth. Looking around, Alfred saw no way of making an efficient gag. There was a risk someone would hear him screaming from the car.

Alfred sighed, shrugged off his blazer and threw it to the floor. Planting a firm foot on either sleeve, he tore them both away with great effort, as well as the help of a knife the man had on his uniform. He tied both sleeves together and used them as a gag. He knew his mother would be furious to see his blazer so awfully ruined, so he chucked the remains away, deciding it would only slow him down.

He shrugged on the uniform, gloves, body armour, helmet, everything. Flexing his hands and getting used to the uniform, he rolled his shoulders back and looked at himself in the car mirror. He didn't recognise himself. He left his glasses in the car. Although his vision wasn't his best, he wouldn't need to do too much reading. Hopefully. If anything needed to be read, he would just wing it anyway. He closed the car boot, but left each window open a crack.

Alfred grabbed the pistol and ducked through the trees once more, collecting the guard's gun on the way. He took another deep breath, and then wandered out of the forest. One of the other guards noticed him strolling out the treeline, and approached.

"What's that you have there?" he asked. His accent was Italian.

Alfred thought carefully before answering, but decided to mumble with a slight Italian- or as best as his Italian could be- lilt to his words. "Some punk's gun."

"Turn it in," the other guard pointed to the building. "That punk's gonna get traced."

 _Just as I thought,_ Alfred internally smirked, but his body nodded passively.

Casually, he walked straight to the warehouse, and wandered through the doors. He wondered why Mr Vurkel hadn't brought him along. He could've been extremely useful, in his opinion.

The warehouse was dark, and its appearance morbid. Alfred walked along as if he knew where he was going. There was an eerie emptiness to the place, but he knew both Mr Vurkel and Arthur were within its depths somewhere. He knew he was breaking the rules, but there was no way Alfred was going to sit back when one of his closest friends was in danger.

 **A.K.**

The room was the same darkness. No other videos had been filmed. He had waited, and after Eris's short, damned visit, he had been completely alone.

He only felt dread as the door started to open again, but that was soon replaced with relief when he saw Mr Vurkel's face, only then to become horror once more.

"Mr Vurkel, they lured you here to kill you," he said as his former teacher started unbinding him from the chair.

"It's fine, Arthur," Mr Vurkel looked distressed. "I can't believe this has happened to you… I'm so sorry. I should have tried harder to prevent you getting involved."

His ex-teacher helped him stand, but he waved him away, which hurt his wrist.

"I can stand," he insisted, feeling unnaturally calm, despite the situation.

"We need to get back to Alfred," Mr Vurkel grimaced.

" _Alfred_?" he stared in horror, the cloud of pain suddenly being lifted from his mind.

"It's too long a story to tell right now," Mr Vurkel pressed forwards. "We just need to leave this place."

"Wait," he said, and Mr Vurkel stopped in the doorway. "Give me that Taser you have at your belt. I'll need to defend myself."

"You know how to work it?" his teacher held the weapon towards him, and Arthur shook his head. "It's very simple. Pull the trigger, and press it to someone's body."

Arthur held the Taser in his hands and nodded, pressing the trigger and seeing the sparks of electricity, no matter how much the pressure stung his fingers. He was suddenly worried about Alfred, because if Mr Vurkel had left him somewhere, they only had limited time before he got bored and decided to get involved.

Once that happened, Arthur had no idea where Alfred would take himself. He decided not to worry his former teacher with this information, though...

Just a few paces after Mr Vurkel, Arthur walked out into the blackness of his prison, where all dangers that lurked were entirely hidden.

* * *

 **A/N:** _I felt this chapter was meant to alleviate the action. I'll let you guys decide on that! Thank you very much for reading this chapter of Gakutalia and I hope to post the next one soon (but don't quote me on that)!_

 _Matthew Jones:_ Canada


	35. Chapter 34

**A/N:** _Guess what! An Easter extra chapter just for you guys! Enjoy and have a great Easter! I have a Lindt strawberry and white chocolate egg waiting for me!_

* * *

 **A.J.**

Every now and then he would find a set of stairs that were worth walking up, and would find himself in a completely different and new place. Alfred had no idea where he was, but at least there were windows where he could check what direction he was facing. What had originally been a mere warehouse in his opinion had now changed into some decrepit palace. Some areas of the floor had fallen in, and wires and pipes stuck out from odd places in ways they shouldn't have done. He knew he was out of his depth here, and he knew he should've stayed in the car, but this was too exciting an opportunity to turn down.

So exciting, in fact, that his mood would become part of a petty prank he suddenly wanted to spitefully play on Ivan and Matthew. Whipping out his phone, he turned it back on, and saw a missed call from both Ivan and his mother.

He was feeling particularly cruel today, so he flipped the camera round and held the phone up to get a good look of himself in the warehouse. He snapped a few shots, picked the best, and then sent them to both Ivan and his brother. He knew he was being a total arsehole, but he put the phone on a timer, and balanced it on the window ledge. He posed on the railings and took several shots messing around in front of the camera. Reaching for his phone once more, he sent the best of those photos along, sniggering as he did so. He was pleased to see he had signal to see them sent.

A large, meaty hand clasped his phone and lobbed it over the railings. Alfred watched in dismay as his phone hit the ground several floors down and shattered. On the platform where he stood, he turned his attention to the extremely large man that towered over him.

"Oh, hello there," Alfred's voice shook – and he hated himself for that.

"What are you?" his voice was thick Italian, gravelly and spoken in an oddly paced way – slow and methodical.

"Just another guy?" Alfred took a step back.

With a growl, the massive man grabbed his shoulders and swung him over the railings. Alfred's mouth formed an 'O', but he didn't have time to scream.

 **I.B.**

When asked later about what he was doing in the exact moment Alfred sent the texts, Ivan would instantly recall that he had been tapping out the tune of the sheet music he'd played on the drums. However, he would say he was eating his dinner. Either way, he was back home when he received the texts, and he wasn't impressed to see them either.

"What are you doing?" he murmured to himself and then squinted when he saw a shadow revealed by the light in one of the last pictures. "Where are you, Alfred?"

He tried calling once more, but received no answer or ring. With a frown and increasing anxiety, Ivan shrugged on a coat and ran downstairs. His father wouldn't notice his absence, since he was busy working in his office today.

"Where are you going?" Natalya asked him, walking out the family living room to see him at the front door. "Ivan?"

"Oh, out," he replied, opening the door.

"Don't make me get, Father," she approached. "Where are you going?"

"Alfred's house," he lied. "Call them. They'll confirm it."

He slipped out of the front door and closed it before she could argue with him. He saw her looking worriedly out the window as he almost ran down the driveway. Without thinking, he climbed into his father's car and started it up.

He had driven his father's vehicles before, and he'd had some lessons. Without a licence, though, Ivan would get in a lot of trouble with both the authorities and his family if he was caught. He drove out of the house and to where he thought Alfred might have been.

 **A.K.**

Mr Vurkel walked down a flight of steps and he himself wasn't far behind. Arthur was mainly worried about Alfred, because there was no telling what he would do. He wasn't sure whether he should mention his concerns to Mr Vurkel, or if he really was just overreacting.

The warehouse seemed to be constructed of layers. In a morbid spiral staircase, each floor was just a strip of metal flooring that led to a narrow flight of steps, and sometimes an extended corridor along the end. Big windows on either side of the pitfall allowed vast amounts of moonlight to enter the building.

"I left Alfred in the car," Mr Vurkel whispered, hurrying down a flight of stairs. "It's just outside."

"Mr Vurkel, I hate to say this, but I don't think Alfred will be in the car when we get back," Arthur finally admitted, only to hesitate when Mr Vurkel stopped dead on the stairs.

"What do you mean?" his former teacher asked, narrowing his eyes.

Arthur swallowed. "I mean, Alfred hates missing out on the action. Don't you remember what he was like in class? All the attention had to be on him."

Mr Vurkel looked straight ahead with a furrowed brow. "Are you trying to tell me it's almost certain that he left the car?"

"Yes, Sir," Arthur walked a couple of steps down.

"Well, isn't that lucky for me?" the voice made Arthur's blood run cold, as he turned on the stairs to see Eris facing a gun at him. "Here – just let me call Vinni to let him know there's an intruder…"

"Eris," Mr Vurkel scowled.

A wide smile crept along the evil woman's red lips, and although her outwards appearance remained soft and angelic, there was a harsh, hellish layer that seemed to finally be escaping through the crumbling surface.

"Oh, Vurkel," she sighed. "It's been such a long time. You didn't recognise me?"

"I was an idiot," he admitted. "But, then, when I saw you at the car park, you didn't speak enough for me to catch your voice, and you've bleached your hair blonde. On the outside you've changed quite a lot."

"What about the inside?" she tilted her head to the side, watching them closely.

"Just as bad as ever," he replied.

She held her phone to her ear, still smiling mischievously, with the gun trained on Arthur's head. "Hey, Vinni. Put the place in lockdown. We have an imposter. Find him."

Just as she hung up, Mr Vurkel threw a small, smoking stick towards the stairs. Plumes of thick, grey smoke rose, filling the air and obscuring everything from view. Arthur felt himself get dragged down just as several bullets were fired. Mr Vurkel dragged him out of the smoke and ran along the metal platform, disappearing into one of the many corridors that branched off from the staircase.

 **A.J.**

Although he fell down headfirst, he managed to angle his body and grab onto the railings of a different floor. Terrified, he started hauling himself up. Raising his head, he saw the giant man heave a machine gun onto the railing and take aim at him. He rolled over the railing just as a torrent of bullets started raining down from above.

He paused a moment to catch his breath when he heard the pounding of feet from several floors above. Horrified, Alfred pulled himself to his feet and ran down the stairs, continually going down and down until he reached the bottom. Frantically, he searched for a way out, only to be dismayed when he saw crates and other odd, unused trash left lying along the bottom floor.

"Well, lookee 'ere," someone hollered from above.

Alfred's head snapped up to see a short man fling his bowler hat down, where it landed just over a metre away from him.

"You must be th'intruder," the man continued, leaning against the railing and looking at him in mockery. "You friends with Vurkel?"

"He was my teacher," Alfred replied awkwardly. "I wouldn't say friend, though."

"Wait – you another one a them kids, then?" the man laughed. "You bein' 'ere; ya know that's dumb, right?"

"I'm entitled to be where I like," he replied bluntly, and watched the man run a hand through his hair in frustration.

"I don't like it when ya kids get snarky, right?" the man sighed. "Dino – crush 'im. Literally."

Alfred watched the large man launch himself from the railing, and land directly where the hat had been, crushing it completely. He hefted the machine gun in his arms, and then, like a hammer, brought it down on Alfred.

He leapt to the side, but only just, because the man, Dino, was able to sweep his feet out from underneath him using the same gun. He landed on his back and felt the air rush out of his lungs. Without a moment's hesitation, Dino slammed the gun down on his stomach. Alfred heard himself cry out, but the bullet proof armour made it bearable. The gun slammed down once more, and he stuck the knife in the large man's hand.

Blood- _real blood_ \- spilled from the wound inflicted. It ran, red and smelling strongly of iron, along the thick skin of the large man, down his fingers, and dripped onto Alfred's gear. He felt his stomach roll at the sight of it, and suddenly things seemed too real. This was a life or death situation, and Alfred was more than positive that he didn't have the killing drive to end this man's life. Only true desperation would bring him to that. But the blood. It dripped heavy, fat, dark drops, and it stained his clothes, the knife, his hands and imprinted its memory into his mind.

Dino bellowed and staggered backwards, giving Alfred enough time to roll over and crawl away. He felt everything around him had slowed down, even his ability to process what was happening. He was acting on pure instinct. He grabbed onto the corner of a crate and hauled himself to his feet, still gasping helplessly for breath. He turned just in time to see the giant bulrush him. Alfred climbed onto the box and slipped over the other side. He heard the crack and splinter of wood behind him.

Alfred then noticed a corridor running along the side of the room and dashed for that.

"Don't let 'im go, Dino," the other man called from above. "We don't wanna rat in the sewer."

His harsh words echoed around Alfred's head as he ran through a painfully long corridor, only to come out into a room with an identical appearance. It had a strange fog descending from above, but it was empty. Dino bellowed from far behind. Alfred turned and started running up the stairs, his whole body aching from the effort of continuing. His heart was beating too fast and he could feel the blood pumping through his veins.

The large man burst into the arena and started firing at Alfred. Anger made his aim clumsy, but Alfred wasn't about to test how long that could continue for. Frantically, he scrambled all the way to the top floor and looked down to see the huge man taking aim once more.

Alfred threw himself backwards and gawked as a light above his head shattered from a bullet that had been too well-aimed. He opened and closed his mouth before sinking to the floor and running his hands through his hair, hearing the clanking of footsteps as his enemy raced up in pursuit of him.

 _This is the end_ , Alfred panicked, and turned his head towards the stairway where the man would come from.

Alfred ran behind it and positioned himself carefully, holding the gun in place just as the large man appeared in sight.

"Stop – there," he stammered, and watched Dino turn with a deadly glower on his face. "Or – I'll shoot."

Dino seemed to weigh his options, and then his eyes fell on Alfred's hands. He didn't know why the man was looking at that particular area, but when he followed his gaze he saw how visibly his hands shook, the terror presented in his body language. Alfred felt his entire body go cold. He couldn't control his muscles, and even his mouth felt thick and slow. His eyes were permanently widened, but he felt like he was seeing nothing. All he could smell was a strange, smokiness in the air. It clouded his mind. He couldn't escape the panic. When he raised his head once more, he saw the large man approaching with sudden confidence.

"I will shoot," he insisted, his voice weak and shaky, but Dino kept moving. _I can't kill a man_.

Dino grabbed Alfred by the shoulders, and hauled him up. Alfred felt too scared to even strain against the man. He knew it would be futile. This man towered over him and must have been more than twice his width. A vile grin appeared on the man's face. He was missing some teeth. With Alfred clasped in his large, meaty fingers, he started approaching the edge of the railing.

 _He's going to throw me off_ , Alfred realised in terror.

In point blank range, Alfred pressed the gun to Dino's shoulder, and fired. The shot echoed around the entire battle arena, and Alfred hit the ground harshly as Dino dropped him. He didn't even know where the reaction came from. The metal was cold against his cheek. He felt bruised all over. He felt glad to be alive.

Scrambling backwards, Alfred stared in pure fear at the blood pumping from a real man's shoulder. This was definitely not a game any more, what with the way the redness spread across the man's grey shirt. At the same time, though, Alfred felt like he was being controlled by some greater force, as if his instincts were his programming. He didn't quite feel himself. It had to have been survival instincts.

Dino turned to him, snarling with his lip curled and started running towards him. Alfred felt the entire world slow down. He watched the man's feet pounding the ground, each thud echoing through his mind. In an almost dreamlike state, he leapt to the side at the final moment, watching the dark anger in Dino's eyes. He manoeuvred behind his opponent, before slamming the huge back with his shoulder. Gravity took hold a large form such as Dino's. The world suddenly sped up and Alfred watched in regretful horror as Dino went over the railings and disappeared from view.

There was an awful, sickening thud. The noise ricocheted around the room and Alfred's conscious. It was followed by a sickening thud. Alfred didn't dare to look down; that thought just made him feel ill. Instead, he would remain ignorant, and pretend that tonight, he had not killed that man. His excuse would be that he moved out of the way, and that momentum had sent the man over the edge.

Rigidly, he started walking down the stairs from which he had just come. His mouth felt dry, and his hands were shaking once more. He had killed someone. He had _ended someone's life_. Alfred brought his hands to his ears and stood on the steps, trying to focus his breath. He felt cold all over, even though he had been running around in the midst of action. A slow clapping filled the entire room. Alfred spun on the spot, raised his eyes, and saw the other man from before.

"Didn't think you'd win, kid, really didn't think ya would," the man said. "Ah well. A life is a life, and if one like Dino's is lost, can't be 'elped."

"You bastard," Alfred suddenly stared, and the man frowned. "He was your ally. He did everything you asked of him."

"So what?" the man shrugged. "Don't matter to me. Dino was a dog. Me? I'm the cat, cuz I'm clever an' I know what I'm doin'. Ya the mouse, kid. Let's play cat an' mouse, shall we? Or what? Ya gonna kill _me,_ next?"

 _He knows I wouldn't do it_ , Alfred fretted, backing away. He knew that one death had been enough. He knew that he couldn't kill another man. It wasn't in his nature to do that. Yet the way the man portrayed him... he sounded like a cold, blooded murderer.

"Thassa good boy," the man smirked, when he didn't react.

 _What should you do, Alfred?_ he panicked. _You should run, and get back to the car. Mr Vurkel's probably out by now._

Despite his backing up, he never touched a wall. Alfred looked over his shoulder and saw the corridor.

"OK," he replied, gathering his thoughts rapidly and reaching back for the state of cool composure. "Let's play your game, cat."

He looked up to see the man smirking. Alfred allowed his confidence to return, before running down the corridor.

So long as the mouse escaped, the mouse survived.

* * *

 **A/N:** _This was tense to write. Poor Alfred! Let's hope everyone else's Easter is a bit better than his! Have a good one, guys, and thank you for supporting Gakutalia up to this point! Don't forget to leave a comment if you have one, as I love reading reviews! Thank you very much, and enjoy your holidays!_

 _Matthew Jones:_ Canada  
Natalya _Braginsky:_ Belarus


	36. Chapter 35

**A/N:** _First of all, I am so sorry. It's been two weeks since my last update, and I'm afraid to say the chapter after this one won't come out until about another week and a half, as a rough estimate. I've been so caught up in revision, which is something I usually don't need to think about (I'm usually a really bad student). I got so carried away that Gakutalia was lost on the wind._

 _Also, we've had guests round, and if I'm caught writing FanFiction, I find it a little hard to explain what I'm exactly doing without having to explain the entirety of Hetalia and my back-story and authorial aspirations to boot. Now I come across as a little grump... I'm a nice person, really! I promise!_

 _Thirdly (and final excuse, I promise) my sister's back from both university and Norway! She visited there for her boyfriend, so I would like to thank a particular Norwegian family for looking after her! Shout out to **Norway**! I wanted to spend some time with her over the Easter break, but also get to know him a bit more, because he visited here, too. He brought back Norwegian chocolate. One of them was these things that are translated to "Quick Lunches", and they were delicious. They're basically like a Kitkat dipped in Milka chocolate. Considering I like Kitkats and absolutely adore Milka, I very much enjoyed my Quick Lunches. He preceded to tell me they were usually eaten by hikers on mountains. Does going upstairs count as hiking?_

 _Ah, also for the next chapter... It'll take a little longer before it's updated, because I'm going on holiday to Mexico tomorrow! I'm very excited and am really looking forwards to the hot weather. The flight will be extremely long, though! About 12 hours, so I'm going to need some serious preoccupation on the plane... I'm going to have so much fun relaxing on the beach and just eating. I love eating. I really hope they have tacos there, as I would love to test some authentic Mexican tacos. I love tacos... Tacos are my life._

 _Enough about me! Gakutalia is back!_

* * *

 **A.K.**

The corridor was brutally long, a never ending strip that just called for Eris to appear at its mouth and launch several bullets each into their backs. However, that wasn't the case. Whatever happened with her, they managed to get out safely on the other side. Mr Vurkel slowed to stop and paused, looking down with a frown.

"What is it?" Arthur asked, joining his side and looking down. "That's Vinni's hat."

"Vinni?" his teacher glanced at him curiously.

"Some gangster thug leader who works with Eris," Arthur explained. "I just remember him wearing it earlier."

"I was looking at the phone," Vurkel replied.

Looking closer, Arthur did see the smashed remains of some kind of technology.

"I wonder if it belongs to this Vinni character," Vurkel mused, and started going down the stairs. "If that's the case, we can take the SIM card and use it to gain all his contacts. If we can trace the numbers, we may be able to find some big names."

Arthur glanced over his shoulder to check for Eris before following Vurkel down the stairs. Strangely, she had yet to make her reappearance. He stepped off the last stair and joined Vurkel at the bottom floor. Approaching the phone, Arthur felt his heart skip a beat.

"That's not Vinni's phone," he commented, crouching beside it and picking up the remains. He turned it over and saw the back had a strange hamburger sticker on the back. "This is Alfred's."

Looking around, Vurkel wore the same frown Arthur could only imagine he himself was wearing. Suddenly, Vurkel's eyes lit up with realisation.

"Eris called 'Vinni' to go after Alfred," Vurkel clenched his fists. "Did this thug find him? What kind of guy is he? Would he…?"

"Kill Alfred?" Arthur finished, then reflected on the brutal nature of that man. "Yes – he nearly killed my little brother."

"Peter?" Vurkel shook his head. "Actually, I don't want to know, so long as everyone's fine… In this case, though, what happened to Alfred?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Eris yelled from above. "Alfred's dead. Vinni killed him."

She was leaning dangerously over the side of the railing. There was an ecstatic expression in her eyes, a wild anticipation that prompted a pit to form in Arthur's stomach. By now, he could clearly see the woman was treacherous.

"What do you think, Vurkel?" Eris started walking round, slowly making her way down. "Do you think Alfred's sacrifice was worth it? Only to have the pair of you slaughtered down here?"

Vurkel pulled a gun from his belt and aimed it at her. She froze on the spot, but then turned her gun towards Arthur.

"You shoot, and I do the same," she said, and continued walking.

 _He won't shoot if I'm here,_ Arthur thought, keeping his gaze fixed on Eris' every movement.

She reached the bottom, the silky smile still on her face. "Let's not turn to guns, Vurkel. Can we not solve this cleanly? A negotiation?"

"You and I both know that will never happen," Vurkel replied.

"Just tell me the code," she snapped. "If I kill you here, you won't have to face punishment from your superiors. That's what you're really afraid of here, isn't it? The punishment you'll face."

"Have you lost all reason?" Mr Vurkel was exasperated. "Don't you realise how different our viewpoints are? No matter how many times you ask for a negotiation, we'll always reach the same, fruitless conclusion. I'm not telling you the code."

"But I was right about you knowing it, yes?" she asked, and Vurkel offered a shrug.

"Only top agents get to know the truth," he answered, and her entire body stiffened.

"It's always the top agents," she scowled. "Those lousy good for nothings who take life too seriously."

"With the positions we have, being mature is a necessity," he replied.

"This is why I think it's total bullshit that I was never chosen to be at the top," she complained. "There are so many agents in your section who I could beat. Admit it, Vurkel. It was a mistake to not let me reach my rightful place."

"I can't say that, Eris, because it's not true," Vurkel replied. "You wouldn't be able to manage this. That's why I told them to reject you."

"I've killed people," she answered, and suddenly sounded sullen, childish, even.. "What else is there more to manage?"

"Killing people whom you consider your enemies, and killing people who were once allies, even close friends, is completely different," Vurkel replied stonily. "Murder is different from discovering information about the world and top people that you would rather not know. Some of the things I see every day could destroy a person's stability. The reason I rejected you was for your own safety – I never wanted to do it as a personal offence."

"Shut up, Vurkel," she screeched, and her words echoed around the warehouse. "You ruined my career. You held me back. You couldn't bear the thought of me, once your student, suddenly being allowed in the same class as you. You couldn't bear the thought that, soon, very soon, I'd be _better than you_."

Vurkel remained silent as he watched her pace around them in a circle, a lioness circling her prey.

"Look at us now," she smirked, suddenly serene once more, pausing just before them. "I'm better than you. What you feared has come true, yet instead of allowing me to continue being a friend, you forced a bridge between us that drove us to become enemies. With my skill, I could've been your ally, yet you, _Vurkel_ , knowingly made us enemies – you could've been able to effectively use my skills on your side."

"That may be true, however, I stand to what I said," Vurkel replied. "Even now, I wouldn't let you into the top band."

"This is where things go wrong," she spat. "You and your condescending nature. I can't stand it. It's always grated on me. "

"Eris, allow Arthur to leave," Vurkel begged.

"I and _sidekick Kirkland_ have already had this discussion," she answered petulantly. "We've already concluded that he won't be able to leave here alive, purely because of what he knows. He's fine with that."

"I never said I was fine with it," Arthur replied coolly, suddenly finding his strength return. "Just that I acknowledged your intentions."

"Both of you are one and the same," she hissed, and Arthur noted a slight shake in her hand as she held the gun too tightly. "Would you upgrade _him_ to the top, Vurkel? Would you let sidekick _Kirkland_ into the top band?"

"No," Vurkel instantly replied. "Because that would be cruel."

"He sucks, anyway," she leered. "You have an excuse for not letting him reach the top. As for me, you had no excuse. You just rejected me. You betrayed me and made me look like a fool in front of everybody. Before I kill you, I want an explanation, Vurkel. Why? Why did you do it?"

"Because you're emotionally weak," Vurkel blurted out, exasperated.

"What?" she tilted her head and stared at him savagely.

"You're too easily controlled by your emotions," Vurkel sighed. "Look at you! You always have been, and you evidently still are. Your defection only backed up my point. I would've been more inclined to consider the position for you had you stayed."

"What?" she repeated, and sounded genuinely surprised.

"By allowing your emotions to control you, you make brash, irresponsible decisions," Vurkel replied. "These types of decisions could've led you to ruin your future missions and even lose your life. What's the point of that? I wanted to wait just a few more years whilst you matured, but it seems it's too late for that."

She laughed in his face, manic once more. "You're just old and stupid."

Eris moved extremely quickly after that. Her hand shot out and a knife sunk into the flesh of Vurkel's arm. The gun slipped from his hand and she was ready, taking aim already. Vurkel regained composure in enough time to dash forward and wrestle her arm upwards.

"Arthur, get out of here!" he yelled, waving for him to leave.

"But-"

"Just go, don't put me through this stress," Vurkel snapped.

Dipping his head to show consent, Arthur hurried to the stairs and started climbing up. He glanced over his shoulder to see Eris lob the gun to the side and swing her elbow to connect with Vurkel's jaw. Rather than watch them perform perfect, practised hand to hand combat, Arthur continued on his way up, listening to Vurkel's instructions.

He had been told to leave. Whilst it would be ideal to find Alfred, it seemed that Vurkel believed that was impossible in their current stage.

He reached the top of the staircase and looked down one more time. Eris had opted for one of her small knives once more, and Vurkel was dodging to preserve his life. Frowning, Arthur felt a sudden guilt descend over him. He couldn't just leave the man that had saved his life not once, but twice.

Looking around, his noticed an array of materials, the most obvious ones being the wires and pipes. He reached for a wire, and pulled it. It slid out of the wall, clearly not connected properly, although it still sparked.

With immense care, he stepped away from the wire and tested all of the pipes until one came away loose. Satisfied, he tied the end of the wire to the pipe, and looked back down below. Vurkel and Eris were in close combat, he needed to time this carefully.

Watching them battle, Arthur positioned himself. Rather than yell and distract Vurkel, he wolf whistled to catch both their attention, and lobbed the pipe down. Grabbing the wire, he swung it manically around, until, upon reaching the bottom floor, the pipe collided with Eris's head, all within a matter of seconds.

She lost her balance and dropped her knife. Vurkel shot forwards and grabbed her, bringing two fingers forwards and jabbing her in the throat. Her legs gave way beneath her, and she fell to the floor, limp and unconscious.

For a moment, Arthur stood there, grinning like an idiot, until Mr Vurkel looked up at him, shaking his head. He believed he was in trouble, until he saw Vurkel wore a reluctant smile. He shrugged nonchalantly, and met Vurkel halfway down, whilst his ally was carrying an unconscious Eris.

"This is lucky," he commented. "She's been a wanted figure the day she defected."

"What now?" Arthur said in dismay. "What do you think happened to Alfred?"

"I'm afraid to say I just don't know," Vurkel sighed. "Our best option would be to just try and leave."

Arthur nodded forlornly, and followed Mr Vurkel down the corridor.

 **A.J.**

His footsteps made an odd clanking sound as he raced down the corridor. The man's casual behaviour was unsettling, considering he didn't seem to be in any particular rush to catch up to him. Alfred kept glancing over his shoulder, and although he could see him, he never tried to fire at him.

He turned his head and saw a sudden hole in the ground. Skidding to a halt, Alfred stared in horror. The floor had caved in, with only a small platform in the middle held in place by a chain that dangled from above – a poor, half done job of repairing it.

Alfred glanced over his shoulder, saw the man approaching, and leapt forwards. He landed on the platform, where it wobbled and shook, threatening to tip over. He clung on tightly to the chain, staring wide eyed at the abyss below. Rather than get shot mid-jump, he rushed forward and jumped for the other side-

-only to have his foot slip and his chin crack on the ledge. He grasped onto the length with all his strength, when a shadow fell across him. He raised his head and his heart skipped a beat to see Dino standing above him.

"Wh-what?" he gaped.

He was hallucinating. The dead had come back to reap their revenge.

"'Is brother, Nico," the man replied from the other side, amusement in his tone. "Step on 'is fingers, Nico. Do it."

Nico's large foot rose, and Alfred squeezed his eyes shut. There was a loud buzz, and Nico slumped on the floor in front of him, as Arthur grasped Alfred's wrist and pulled him up, a Taser in hand.

"Arthur?" he gaped just as Arthur said, "Alfred."

He heard the click of a gun and turned just as a bullet impacted against the armoured vest. There was a sharp pain and he slumped in Arthur's arms, just as the man jumped lightly to the other side, taking aim again.

The bullet was directed straight towards Arthur's head. If it did not kill Arthur, it would be because it would kill Alfred for defending Arthur. There was no time to move, because they were in point blank range. His gun had no bullets, but Nico's did. He clasped it and turned, gripping onto Arthur's shoulder for support. His ribs were ringing from the impact of the previous bullet. The man's finger slid towards the trigger, and Alfred noted how everything was in that strange, slow motion feeling again. Even he felt a little bit sluggish, as the gun raised in his hands. There was something victorious in the man's eyes, to see Alfred pointing a gun at him. Kill or be killed. But Alfred wouldn't turn to that. He knew that was a dark path, and an intentional shot would be murder. Alfred was not a murderer. In the trance-like slow motion, he raised the gun higher and slammed a bullet through the ropes holding the platform up.

It was Alfred's satisfaction to see the horror briefly in the man's eyes, as the platform sank and snapped down towards the abyss below. His ears rang as his enemy fired a bullet of his platform fell and he was gone, his eyes flashing with anger being the last thing Alfred saw.

After that, it was just the two of them in the warehouse, with Arthur shaking him slightly and calling out his name, whilst the sound of blood pumping frantically rang through his ears.

* * *

 **A/N:** _Thank you for your patience in updating this chapter! I'm glad everyone has supported Gakutalia throughout, and I'm glad to say I feel it is nearing a very fruitful end indeed! Everyone has been very positive throughout, and I would like to thank you all for having such faith in me and this Fic. I won't get sentimental yet, because it's not THE end, but I would most certainly like to show my appreciation to everyone who has read and enjoyed Gakutalia._

 _Thank you very much, and the next update won't be until a week in a bit, where I will definitely let you know how my experiences in Mexico turned out! Until then, enjoy the rest of your Easter break!_


	37. Chapter 36

**A/N:** _Hello, everybody! I'm back from hibernation. Let me tell you some excuses!_

 _I know I came back to Mexico on Sunday, and could've posted then, but I was so tired and my sister was leaving for university, so I wanted to see her off, as I won't see her until June now! Moreover, I needed to make sure I was ready for school, as that started again on Wednesday... It's been a tough few days, because I have my final exams in May and June, and now it's all about revising and preparing for them! Groan... In summer, I hope to redeem my update schedule..._

 _Next excuse! I came back to drama! I don't even know how, but a few of my friends are playing up, and I've been trying to sort them out... By that, I mean, there's a really bad, tense mood going around. To put it bluntly, we're getting everyone 18th birthday presents, but a couple others have refused to chip in to someone else's present. It's all very selfish, really, because their reasoning is based on stale grudges. It's difficult trying to keep everyone together, especially as there's 10 of us, which is only asking for more room in arguments!_

 _Final excuse! I know I usually post on Fridays (or, at least, that_ used _to be my philosophy), but as you can see... this is a day late... This one is a_ good _excuse! I had my first Nandos yesterday! A lot of you will probably be thinking... "Um... XOs? Where have you been in your life, if not Nandos?" I confess, I don't know why I haven't been earlier! The food is so good! It's definitely a trip I'm making again! I gotta say, though, damn the food can be spicy! Fun fact: Nandos is Portugese, for all those who didn't know, so thank you, Portugal, for such a wonderful company._

 _Thank you for **7,000** views. Oh my Gosh. That's so many people who have clicked on this Fic, and chosen to give it a go. It's unbelievable, and this has been such a journey! Thank you so much everyone for sticking through with Gakutalia as far as this! The support is just amazing, and it really makes my day to see that so many people have seen Gakutalia and selected it amongst the many other Fics out there. Without further ado (and enough about me, gosh!)- the next chapter of Gakutalia!_

* * *

 **A.J.**

He listened to the sound of his own breathing as footsteps approached from behind. Arthur kept very still. Alfred wondered what he was thinking. Was he disgusted that Alfred had turned to the gun so quickly, or just relieved to be alive? Alfred's mind felt like a blank canvas. There was no noise from below. Was... was the man unconscious? Or was the drop so steep that... Alfred couldn't see the bottom, so he couldn't determine anything.

"Hello?" he called out. His voice sounded terribly frightened in that dark warehouse.

"Don't worry about it," Arthur swallowed, and began dragging him further away from the drop. "The police will handle him later."

Was there a strange tone to his voice? Alfred wasn't sure if he was just imagining the worst. Heavy footfalls echoed down the corridor. He angled his head round, and saw Mr Vurkel approaching with Miss Morbrey on his shoulders.

"Whoa," he breathed. "Have I missed something?"

"A lot," Arthur replied. "She was behind it. That's why I never made it to your audition. She kidnapped me when I went to get my coursework checked."

Alfred forced a pained, but wide smile at his friend, until he received an odd glance.

"What's that look for?" Arthur asked, sitting him up and frowning.

"I just thought… you'd changed your mind," Alfred admitted. "I thought you'd decided you wouldn't turn up to the audition, since… you know…"

Arthur's expression softened and he smiled, looking at little strained. "Why would I do that? That would only upset you."

"It did," he said. "And I really took things out on Matthew and Ivan. We didn't pass the audition."

"What? They told you there and then that you didn't get through?" Arthur looked surprised as he helped Alfred to his feet.

"Not exactly," Alfred replied. "But I did-"

A sudden sharp pain in his chest sapped the strength from his knees and his legs gave way. He grasped the place where the man's bullet had made impact with the vest and groaned.

"Alfred?" Arthur looked alarmed. "Are you OK?"

"Yeah, I think so," he grimaced. "It just… really hurts…"

"I have an idea," Vurkel said, laying Miss Morbrey down on the floor and taking her phone from her. "I'll call for reinforcements."

Alfred watched weakly as he dialled a number. The pain in his chest was unbearable, but he could only be thankful he wasn't bleeding from the mouth.

Arthur checked his pulse, which was when Alfred really noticed what kind of physical state his friend was in. His face was bruised black and blue, alongside a noticeable black eye. Then there were his hands. The skin... it was red, blistered, _peeled_. Dark cuts had crusted over with thick layers of dark blood. It looked like someone had attempted to... to _wittle_ his hands away with a blade. As for the nails... they... it looked like...

"Arthur," he stared in horror. "What happened to your hands?"

His friend smiled weakly. "It's fine, Alfred."

"No, dude, your nails, they're…"

"If he doesn't want to talk about it, don't make him," Vurkel said, disconnecting his call and turning to them. "Reinforcements are on their way."

Alfred was still too busy staring at what was supposedly left of Arthur's nails.

 **I.B.**

There had been unbelievable traffic. He had waited hours on end just hoping that something would clear up. Along the way, he learnt it was a minor accident on the main roads that had clogged the entire system, but he was just happy when he was able to dip down a significantly more secluded dirt road, passing thick forest along the way.

After the ominous disappearance of Alfred and his phone, Ivan had been concerned. He'd been on the phone to his father whilst waiting for the traffic to clear, and had explained he'd be out doing business for some time. His father had given him some advice, but Ivan was more for doing things his own way. He was just surprised because, for once, his father wasn't annoyed or furious that he'd left without letting him know.

After making a brief phone call, he had been told some very... interesting directions. At first, Ivan wasn't sure if he had been sent the wrong way, but things became ominously clearer as he drove.

He had just finished driving when he had noticed a car parked out of view. Swerving to the side, he had stopped the car beside the other one and stepped out. He'd been surprised to see an irritated man tied up in the back.

Ivan was now talking to him, having released him of the gag. The man gasped for breath and dared stretch out his legs before getting a good look at Ivan.

"Oh, who are…" he blinked.

Ivan waved a hand. "Who are you and what are you doing in this car?"

"I got attacked if that counts for anything," the man looked terrified. "Look, just – please. Let me go, and I won't ever interfere with your life."

"I'm not done with my questions," Ivan folded his arms. "Who did this to you?"

"Some kid," the man looked embarrassed. "He looked a right nerd, as well – until he tackled me to the ground like some freaky motherfucker…"

"Nerd? Some kid? What?" Ivan frowned.

"Some school kid," the man insisted. "Look, don't make me repeat myself. It's low getting beaten by a kid."

"What did he look like?" Ivan ignored him.

"Eh, blonde, I think... I don't know; maybe brown? Brown blonde?" the man grimaced. "He was about the same size as me, a little above average. Hmm. Glasses. Blue eyes. Caucasian. Clumsy, as well. Damn, my head hurts..."

"Alfred," Ivan turned towards the warehouse, with its shattered window and patrols. "What place is this?"

"I can tell you if you set me free," the man said, just as several more cars rolled into the scene.

"What's going on?" Ivan ignored him again.

"Um… I…" the man seemed lost, so Ivan assumed he had finished giving important information.

He was about to walk forwards when a squad of people carrying guns left the vehicles and rounded up those on patrol. He hesitated, but then promptly drew back, deciding not to get in the way.

"Damn, the forces," the man fretted. "What are _they_ doing here?"

"They must be OK," Ivan murmured to himself, but checked his phone just in case.

 **A.K.**

When others came, he was incredibly relieved. He didn't want to leave Alfred's side, so he was the one to help his friend up. Alfred still couldn't stand straight, and Arthur could see walking was causing him considerable strain, yet he kept going.

"We need to get you two medical attention," Mr Vurkel said, remaining with them. "I'll accompany you there, of course, and I'll have my superiors put an explanation as to what happened to the pair of you. I want to get that armour off of you."

The three of them moved much slower than the rest of the soldiers, who had rounded up all the offenders and criminals. As expected, some people had escaped, but they would be wanted and eventually caught.

Arthur was just grateful to reach fresh air. The first thing he noticed was the increased amount of cars being loaded with criminals, as well as the number of people checking IDs and speaking into walkie-talkies.

"That reminds me," Vurkel murmured. "Hang on a second, Arthur."

His former teacher reached around his ear and pulled something away with a painful snap. Arthur rubbed the back of his ear and then watched as Vurkel investigated the equipment.

"I'll keep and deactivate this," he said, pocketing it. "The tracking device."

"I see," Arthur sighed in relief, as Alfred looked on the cars with a pained expression.

"Alright, let's go," Vurkel readied his keys.

"Mr Vurkel, I just remembered we won't be able to use your car," Alfred groaned. "I punctured the tyre making a weapon for myself."

"You what?" Vurkel looked horrified. "That car… why would… never mind…"

"All these people came as reinforcements," Arthur breathed.

"Hmm, I expect all these cars were brought for our enemies," Vurkel sighed. "I can try and find one that can be used to fit Alfred and Arthur in."

"What about you, Mr Vurkel?" Arthur frowned.

"I can always get my fiancée to come pick me up," Vurkel replied.

"Ah," it was weird to see the world move on, but it was constantly happening, so what else could Arthur have expected?

The next thing Arthur noticed was the obvious sleek Rolls Royce parked beside Mr Vurkel's trusty car. And, next to the impressive vehicle was Ivan, speaking with one of the authorities, a worried expression on his face as he showed them his phone.

"What's Ivan doing here?" Arthur blinked, and met his friend's gaze briefly – however, Ivan didn't approach, as he was busy speaking with the officer.

"Dude's angry with me," Alfred croaked beside him.

"Braginsky could actually give us a lift to the hospital," Vurkel said thoughtfully, and hurriedly approached their friend and what was probably one of his colleagues.

"What happened, Alfred?" Arthur asked, concerned.

"I need to talk to him," Alfred looked worried. "I need to apologise."

Arthur nodded and started approaching. He watched as someone was led out of Mr Vurkel's car and taken away, sending abusive words in Ivan's direction.

"Now that that's done with," Vurkel sighed. "Ivan. Good to see you here. Although, _why_ are you here?"

Ivan smiled. "Alfred sent me some shots. I recognised this place from the news."

Mr Vurkel looked at him long and hard. His brows momentarily drew together, but he nodded. Even Arthur thought it was a slightly odd statement, to _recognise_ this place. Had Ivan been here before? If so, why? However, this wasn't the time for interrogation. Alfred needed help, and now that adrenaline was no longer pumping through him, the pain in his hands was rapidly returning. Vurkel nodded, accepting the answer casually, and leaving it at that.

"Seeing as you're here, could you give us a hand?" Mr Vurkel asked. "We need to get these two to hospital."

Ivan's eyes widened and he nodded frantically. Getting into the driver's seat, he started the Rolls Royce up – Arthur was still admiring the ride. Mr Vurkel got in the passenger seat, and Arthur remained in the back with his injured friend.

"Hey, Ivan, dude," Alfred said, as Arthur strapped him in.

"Yeah?" Ivan reversed out and started driving down the road.

"I'm sorry," Alfred said, and Ivan glanced over his shoulder to meet his gaze, stopping the car as he did so. "I really am."

A smile found its way to Ivan, who nodded and looked back at the road whilst resuming his driving. "I know."

"Cool," Alfred smiled.

 **A.J.**

"You see, there is a plus side," Alfred said, plunging the spoon into the tub. "Whilst I may not be able to move around for a whole week, I'm not supposed to eat hard food, which means I only get either liquefied or soft foods – including ice cream!"

"I'm glad things turned out so well for you," Francis blinked, looking tired and dishevelled. "I didn't realise things would get this bad…"

"Hmm, I think they could've – mm – gotten worse," Alfred said, between a spoonful of ice cream. "I mean, one of us could've gotten seriously injured, right?"

"That's true," Arthur said.

"But your hands, mon ami!" Francis frowned. "They were _not_ in a good condition."

"I know," Arthur said, but then rolled his eyes. "I've been appropriately medically treated, and I'm on therapy, but I don't think I need it that bad. It was an awful experience, and it'll scar me, literally and figuratively – but, I don't know… I calmed down very quickly and the moment was suddenly behind me."

"I think you two did really well, aru," Yao said, surprised. "I'd have freaked out. What happened to you again, Alfred?"

"Fractured ribs," he chuckled, and ate more ice cream. "Totally fine with it, though. This ice cream is damn good, dude…"

"I'm just glad things are OK," Ivan said. "Don't overdo it with the ice cream."

Alfred rolled his eyes with a smile. "I won't."

"And to think I thought you were disappearing over the Talent Show," Francis tested the waters.

Alfred knew he had overreacted big time with the Talent Show. Whilst he was still vaguely annoyed that Roderich had been so picky, he believed he had thrown a huge hissy fit, which was why he'd almost cried at the sight of his brother when his family had arrived at the hospital after receiving notice. He hadn't cried, though, just to clarify that one important fact.

There still remained a shadow. He had killed two people that night, but chose not to mention this to his family. He didn't want them to look at him differently, especially as he now had an altered view of himself. There had been some talk of... sessions... with a professional... but Alfred hadn't been paying his fullest attention at the time. The thought of needing a therapist, though...

"The audition seems so far away," he blew out a breath, casting his demons aside, and glanced at Ivan, who sat beside him, smiling away. "I can't believe you're here, dude."

"Hmm?" the smile faltered.

"What with the way I treated you," Alfred added.

"That's true, aru," Yao pondered. "You should leave this bastard just like he deserves. Go take a break from worrying; go to a spa, eat a nice meal and sleep for the rest of the day, just as _you_ deserve."

Alfred nodded as he pushed another spoonful of ice cream into his mouth.

"I'm just glad we could put things behind us," Francis breathed in relief. "It really was terrifying when… Hmm, you know, we should probably be a little honest with you, Alfred and Yao."

"Yeah, dude?" Alfred frowned between his next spoon of ice cream.

"We actually encountered those people before, the night of Hallowe'en," Francis said.

Alfred suddenly felt like the biggest idiot. He turned his head and looked at Ivan, who offered a polite smile once again.

"You weren't lying?" he gawked.

"Why would I lie about that?" Ivan laughed.

"I don't get it, aru!" Yao frowned. "Somebody explain it to me!"

"I think it can wait a little longer," Arthur yawned. "I suddenly feel the strain of trauma draining my energy."

"And obviously my injuries are making me incapable of talking," Alfred sighed.

"I made a pact of secrecy," Francis sighed.

"And I'm just not saying," Ivan beamed.

"Don't do this to me, guys," Yao whined. "Don't leave me in the dark like this, aru! It's not fair!"

Alfred laughed as the story was explained to Yao by the other three. The sudden release of stress was all too good for him. There was something relaxing just watching the others act the way they did. He found himself looking towards Ivan and met his friend's gaze.

They shared a smile that indicated things could finally get better.

 **Nico**

He dragged himself along, one foot at a time, supporting his boss on one of his large shoulders. Both were considerably battered, and his boss had taken some serious wounds. However, the man kept going, his steel determination the only thing keeping upright. The taser hadn't been enough to keep him down, but he knew that it was either fight, or be shot by Vurkel. He knew what had happened to Dino. And he wanted blood for it.

During the clear out, Nico had hidden himself in the pretence he was dead, hoping the authorities would forget they were twins when they discovered Dino's corpse. He was not dead – he was very much alive, and he wanted revenge just as much as his boss did. However, who that revenge was for, he couldn't know. Vurkel... or one of those boys. Or all of them.

The pair of them reached the outdoors. It was early in the morning, and all cars had long gone by now. Only one car remained. The sky was grey, and the air was crisp, and cold. Frost lightly balanced on the ground and objects. There was a stillness in the air, and it was a very dry day.

"I wanna see that," his boss said, and Nico helped him towards the sorry sight.

It was left open, had been emptied out, and one of the wheels was punctured. Nico could already guess they'd have to walk everywhere, since all vehicles on the premises had probably been towed away. It was safer that way, anyway. Walking was far more subtle compared to driving.

Nico left his boss beside the tree and investigated the car for anything useful.

"Alfred Jones," his boss suddenly said, and he looked over to see him holding a sleeveless jacket with a nametag sewn to it. "Alfred fucking Jones. ' _E's_ the one, Nico."

He had learnt not to reply to his boss, so held his tongue and remained silent.

"We 'ave our guy," Vincenzo Santiago grinned savagely. "The mouse will regret the day he chose to cross the cat."

* * *

 **A/N:** _Well, there we have it! Another chapter of Gakutalia! This isn't quite the end; I need to add the frosting and the cherry on top. The first term is coming to a close, I fear, but now is not the time to be talking about endings! After all, for Nico and his boss, it's the beginning of a very dangerous story... but that's for another day, I should think! Thank you for keeping with Gakutalia!_

 _Matthew Jones:_ Canada  
 _Roderich Edelstein:_ Austria


	38. Chapter 37

**A/N:** _Hello, and I'm sorry for the late post! I have no excuse for Friday, but since it's a bank holiday Monday this week, I excitedly spent Saturday doing absolutely nothing! That's hardly an excuse, but it's the only one I've got... Either way, thank you for your patience!_

 _Here's the next chapter of Gakutalia!_

* * *

 **F.B.**

Things had finally begun to settle down. Since he no longer had the responsibility of being a manager, he could relax once again. He found he had a lot more free time to hang around with the group in the treehouse. Although Alfred wouldn't be in school for the entire week, Arthur was able to return after some insistent negotiating.

Francis was in the ICT room printing off his English coursework when he felt a light tap on his shoulder. Turning in his seat, he was surprised to see Feliciano Vargas smiling apologetically at him.

"Oh, hello," he said. "Need something?"

"I actually just wanted to talk," Feliciano sat down beside him. "Is it true that Alfred's in hospital?"

Francis nodded. "A horrible accident. He'll be back next week, though. Luckily, it's not too bad. Fractured ribs, but that's it."

Feliciano nodded and then drummed his fingers on the table. "You see, I was just reflecting back to Hallowe'en and I thought… I thought, actually, maybe you guys should come along to my brother's party."

"What?" Francis looked at him in complete surprise. Never had he expected fortunes to turn this way.

"Well, we did cheat you out of your Hallowe'en candy, and he really wanted to go," Feliciano said nervously. "I won't tell my brother. Honestly, just turn up and he won't notice."

"Thank you very much, Feliciano, but… are you sure about this?" Francis blinked.

"Positive," Feliciano smiled. "Also… I heard he didn't pass the auditions; apparently he didn't react too well to that, so… yeah. Come along. If I just write the address down here…" he scrawled it on a piece of paper. "…then just come along. It's casual wear, nothing special. Hope to see you there."

"Thank you very much," he repeated, awed that luck was suddenly on his side.

"It's really no big deal," Feliciano smiled sympathetically, pushing away from the desk and heading out the classroom. "Good luck with your coursework."

"You, too," Francis said as the other boy left the ICT room, the door swinging shut behind him.

 _What a nice guy,_ he mused, amazed by Feliciano Vargas's charitable act. _You ought to return him for this. You'll find something, but all good deeds should be rewarded, right?_

 **L.B.**

All the auditions had been weighed up. Carefully, Ludwig pushed all the passable candidates to one side and the failed ones to the other side.

"I would feel bad if I was in your position," Kiku said, investigating the rejected pile as Fel wandered into the room. "Where did you go?"

"I spoke with Francis about my party," Fel sat with them.

"You actually invited them?" Ludwig blinked.

"Of course I did," Fel frowned. "I felt so bad. I know you two aren't such fans of any of them, but I think Francis is alright. I don't think they'll get in the way or ruin the party."

"What will Lovino think, though?" Ludwig checked. "He wasn't particularly friendly with any of them if I recall correctly. Won't he have something to say about this?"

"I'm not gonna tell him," Fel shrugged.

Ludwig knew that probably wasn't the best of ideas, but since Fel was set on this, he wasn't about to rain on his parade.

"Lying is wrong, Fel," Kiku looked ashamed. "Remember this is your _brother's_ party…"

"I know, but _I_ organised it," Fel said. "Just because Yao's there, doesn't mean you need to talk to him, OK?"

"What if he talks to me?" Kiku frowned.

"Then you're obliged to talk back," Ludwig rolled his eyes. "Do what you want, Fel. It's not our decision."

"No, it's not," Kiku agreed, although he looked disappointed.

"Do you think the Talent Show will go well?" Fel asked.

"After all the work I've put into this, I hope so," Ludwig replied. "I think the organisation will go well. After that, people will pick their favourite act."

"Sounds like a good idea," Kiku nodded.

"It's nearly the holidays, guys," Fel laid across several desks and beamed at them.

"I can't wait," Ludwig sighed. "This term has been extremely stressful."

"I think I'll just hibernate this year," Kiku yawned. "I hope my parents don't mind too much about that…"

"They won't…" Ludwig stretched and filed all the audition paperwork aside.

In truth, now that the holiday had dawned this close, he no longer cared much about what happened. He wanted the Talent Show to be over and done with, and then he could finally look forwards to what was currently the most important thing on his mind: relaxing.

 **Y.W.**

Everything had relatively calmed down since the events of last week. It had been slow, but Yao welcomed the change of pace as a chance to finally relax. He was currently in the library with Arthur and Ivan – Francis was in the ICT room, printing off the last draft of his coursework.

Yao was currently committed to writing the conclusion to his Art project, which would, naturally, be graded, as it was the end of a term. He was just printing off some pictures and writing the conclusion itself. The library was the perfect place to do this.

Arthur sat beside him talking quietly to Feliks. Yao still couldn't completely forgive Feliks for only giving them a five in the auditions. He hadn't realised Arthur was so friendly. It was probably the wrong time to make some snide comment, especially as the pair of them were in amiable conversation.

Ivan was on the other side of him, completely focused on whatever it was he was working on.

"What you up to, Ivan?" he asked. "You look extremely into it."

Ivan looked up. "Hmm? Oh, right, just stuff."

His eyes flicked back to the screen. Curiously, Yao stood up, but Ivan, seeing the movement, switched off his computer and stood up with a smile, gathering his things together.

"Whoa? Where are you going, aru?" Yao asked, as Ivan shouldered his backpack after a hasty pack up.

"I just remembered I needed to see someone about stuff," he shrugged vaguely. "I'll see you in registration. If I'm late, just tell Mr Saunders I'm talking to Miss Lore."

"Miss Lore?" Yao frowned.

"Yep," Ivan hurried off, his step bubbly and expression light.

 _He seems happy,_ Yao thought, reseating himself, but watching Ivan leave. _So, what is he up to?_

 **A.K.**

"So, I found out about Mr Vurkel," he was telling Feliks. "He basically works abroad in a welfare charity."

"Wait, what?" Feliks frowned. "He gave up his job for volunteering?"

"Well, it's not just straight volunteering," Arthur rolled his eyes. "He writes travel articles about the places he goes to, as well as promotional pamphlets on social conditions in some places, not to mention a book he's writing on the world."

"That's so awesome!" Feliks beamed. "What's his penname?"

"He wouldn't tell me," Arthur lied, and watched him deflate. "It's OK, though. He said the book would be amazing when it comes out."

Feliks grinned. "I'll look out for it, then."

The truth was far different. When he'd had proper medical treatment for his ruined hands and nails, Mr Vurkel had visited him in private.

"You can't tell anyone about our encounter, as you may know," Mr Vurkel had said.

"I know," Arthur had replied. "I'd have never guessed you were a spy."

His former teacher had smiled at that. "Yes, well, I suppose subtlety and a little addition of secrecy are key to being a good spy."

"I suppose, now that Eris is taken down, I won't see much of you," Arthur had felt a little sad to be saying farewell.

"No, I'm positioned elsewhere," Vurkel had shrugged, gazing off into the distance. "Of course, I won't tell you where, but you can know you're one of the very few people on this planet aware of my identity."

"I'm honoured," Arthur had chuckled. "I assume your position as a teacher was just part of the job? That's why you left, right?"

"Absolutely," Vurkel had nodded.

"What was your reason for being at the school?" Arthur had been curious; he had wanted to know as much as he could about the man who had saved his and Alfred's life. "I don't know… It just seems a bit random, doesn't it?"

"I'm afraid that's confidential," Vurkel had laughed. "Well done, Arthur. You did well."

"You, too, Mr Vurkel," Arthur had responded. "Thank you for everything. Is your name even 'Vurkel'?"

"No problem," Vurkel had headed towards the door. "And no, it's not. It's just the one I'm most known for- at the moment…"

"You were a great English teacher," Arthur had smiled. "If you retire, consider it."

"Perhaps I will," Vurkel had said. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

"Good luck with your coursework."

"Thanks."

"And remember," Vurkel's hand had rested on the doorknob as he'd said this. "Confidentiality is key. If it's not that, then grammar is."

He'd left after that, and there had been no trace of him since. Arthur had been content with the farewell. It had solved the mystery of Mr Vurkel that had started in September, and whilst he'd undergone torture in the process, he was still satisfied to finally have the answers.

"What about those rumours between Mr Vurkel and Il?" Arthur asked. "Are they still going round?"

"Oh, no – they died down," Feliks almost looked disappointed. "I managed to control them."

Arthur had a hunch his Polish friend was a bit more of a gossip than he'd originally thought. He decided to humour him. "Ah, that's good."

"So, anyway, I'm actually having a manicure this weekend," Feliks started, and Arthur listened whilst he went on to talk about how he liked to keep his nails clean.

It was nice to suddenly dip back into a normal routine. Believe it or not, Feliks was a normal routine. Arthur didn't even notice when Ivan stood up and left.

 **A.J.**

He was lying in bed when Ivan came to visit him. His friend seemed strangely excitable, but had ended up bringing his sister along on his way back home from school.

"How was your day?" Ivan said cheerfully, walking into the room.

"Hey, dude, it was fine," Alfred said – it was customary to see Ivan at the end of the school day since he visited daily.

"I'm here," Natalya seated herself beside Alfred. "Where's the ice cream?"

"Just here," Alfred tapped the tub. "What about you?"

"Ordinary," Ivan replied.

Natalya cracked open the ice cream tub. At first, Alfred had thought she was trying to steal his food, but it appeared that Ivan's younger sister was just overly keen to help the sick and wounded. It saved him the job of holding the spoon and the ice cream tub, because she would continuously force feed him the food.

"What do you mean by ordinary?" Alfred asked, and ate the ice cream Natalya offered.

"Eh, I just went about my business," he said cheerfully. "Oh, I also brought someone along to see you… Come on in."

Alfred was surprised when Roderich walked into the room. So surprised, in fact, that he forgot to open his mouth in time, and Natalya accidentally smeared ice cream across his face.

"Roderich," he said coolly, still remembering the total betrayal of last week; however, it was hard to look cool with ice cream all over your face. "Hi."

"Good afternoon," he was as formal as ever.

"Um… so…" he said, whilst Natalya wiped at his face.

"Eh, come on, Natalya," Ivan gently prompted his sister to stand.

"But, big brother, he has ice cream on his face still," she insisted.

"His ribs are fractured, not his arms," Ivan guided his sister out of the room. "You can feed and clean him later… or whatever…"

The door closed behind them and Alfred was left alone with Roderich. There was a short period of uncomfortable silence between them, until Roderich finally cleared his throat.

"It's a shame about the Talent Show," he said.

Alfred's anger suddenly rose once more. "You could've made it happen, dude. One more point and we would've been through. However, not only did you have to out us, you also had to grill us down to a personal level, which was awkward."

"Hmm, ja, well, my actions were all in vain," Roderich sighed.

"Huh?" Alfred glanced at him as he walked over and sat on the chair beside him, straight backed.

"It was a test to see if you wanted the music, or the attention," Roderich said uncomfortably. "From the way you're holding this impressive grudge against me, rather than making a loud scene through social media, indicates it was the music you really enjoyed."

"Dude?" even Alfred was confused.

Roderich sighed. "To all other students, I'm Roderich Edelstein, the Young Master, the musical genius, but that's about it. When I was with you the three of you, teaching you, I actually found that enjoyable. I don't find a lot of things enjoyable, but I liked teaching the three of you music. I could tell Yao and Ivan loved their instruments – Yao was always trying to impress me by gaining skill, and Ivan sometimes just gets lost in it. I wasn't so sure about you. That's why I told Feliks to spread the rumour the pass score was twenty-five, not twenty-four."

"Wait, what?" Alfred frowned.

"You passed, but I wanted to check how far your enthusiasm would go," Roderich sighed. "I think it went too far, but…" he suddenly smiled, but it sad. "…I quite like that there are finally others who see me as someone other than just a music lover; people who also share my hobbies. Elizabeta used to be the only one who understood. And Basch, but that was a long time ago."

"Ah," Alfred frowned.

"The Schumann CD you bought me was wonderful," Roderich admitted, finally looking him square in the eye. "I listen to it frequently."

"No problem, dude, but…" Alfred shrugged. "I can't play for the Talent Show now."

"Ja, it's a shame, but things like this happen," Roderich shrugged, and looked away. "I... was going to tell you afterwards, but..."

"I didn't realise," Alfred wasn't sure whether he should've been flattered or insulted that Roderich had felt the need to test him. "I'm still coming to see the Talent Show, though."

"Of course," Roderich stood, swallowing. "I must go. Make sure to take it easy."

"No problem, dude," Alfred smiled, and lifted a hand as his former music teacher left the room. He couldn't stay mad at him forever. Sometimes, misunderstandings just became complicated...

It only reminded him that he had a lot to look forwards to when the Talent Show came around. Alfred smiled. He would now like to see the dog act win…

* * *

 **A/N:** _Well! I hope that was a decent chapter for explaining things... Like a summary! But the question is... what will the Talent Show be like? Thank you for reading Gakutalia! Until next time!_

 _Lovino Vargas:_ Romano  
 _Feliks Lukasiewicz:_ Poland  
 _Natalya Braginsky:_ Belarus  
 _Roderich Edelstein:_ Austria  
 _Elizabeta Hédeváry:_ Hungary  
 _Basch Zwingli:_ Switzerland


	39. Chapter 38

**A/N:** _Hello, everybody! Sorry for a late post; I was at a party on Friday, and let's just say wasn't in a posting mood on Saturday, aha! It was an eating out party, and the food at the restaurant was so good! I was so stuffed, but just managed to cram more in, somehow. I'll tell you what, though: the main was just divine! Battered haloumi! It's so good! If you haven't tried it, I suggest you do, although I doubt it's healthy, what with it basically being battered cheese. For all of you who haven't had haloumi before, it's a **very** mild cheese, and it's texture isn't like most other cheeses. In my opinion, it's food from the gods. I once had a basil, haloumi and tomato sandwich, and I can most certainly confirm it was one of the best lunches I've ever had. So, if you get the chance, try some haloumi! If you like it, you won't regret it!_

 _Without further ado (I know, I keep about food recently...) here's the next chapter of Gakutalia!_

* * *

 **L.B.**

It was the day of the Talent Show, the very thing he had worked so hard to organise. After several trips and slips, and a hard working team, Ludwig had managed to complete it in good time, as well as rile up enthusiasm from the acts and the audience. Usually, the Talent Show was a dull end of the year bore-fest that was to be endured rather than enjoyed. This year, Ludwig had faith that it would be… well… awesome.

"I'm so excited," Fel was saying, always within hearing distance, despite Ludwig's constant need to remind him to sit down and wait in the crowd with Kiku and the rest of the audience.

"OK, Fel," Ludwig sighed. "Just go sit down with Kiku. The show's almost starting."

His friend beamed at him and ran towards the crowd, where Ludwig hoped Kiku had saved a seat for him. He turned and was met by the other three judges, who had all approached, ready for the show itself.

"I'm so excited," Feliks gushed. "I've been, like, waiting for this moment. I hope the audience loves what's been picked out. I hope there's been some improvements."

"I'm sure there has been," Ludwig checked the register. "It seems our rota hasn't changed, either.

"Carlos said he could manage the announcements," Matthew smiled. "I think this is going to go great."

"How's your brother, by the way?" Roderich asked. "I haven't seen him since he was in hospital."

"He was let out this week, actually," Matthew replied. "He told me he wanted to see how the Talent Show was going, so he'll be in a little later."

"Ah, gut," Ludwig laughed. "It seems this whole Talent Show nonsense has passed over his head."

"He's been looking a lot better," Matthew sighed. "I'm actually very relieved. He was… angry about the Talent Show, but after his accident, recovery has worked itself just fine."

Ludwig noted a sadness that passed across Matthew's expression, but since it wasn't elaborated on, he didn't ask.

"Ja, well, he'll make an appearance when he does," Roderich looked out across the crowd, and Ludwig followed his gaze to see Elizabeta waving enthusiastically from the front row.

"Someone wants your attention," Ludwig pointed out.

"Ja," Roderich looked a little awkward as he walked away from the judges table for a quick conversation with his… friend? Girlfriend? Ludwig wasn't sure.

 _Are they a thing?_ he pondered, watching Roderich speak with Elizabeta. The two had been very close friends since childhood; it would make sense if their relationship had just suddenly blossomed now that they were nearly adults.

 **A.J.**

"C'mon, Mom, I don't want to miss the show," Alfred would usually hop from one foot to the other in his excitement, but his injuries prevented rapid movement.

His mother hurried down the stairs, carrying her handbag and looked hassled. "I personally think you should be resting still, eh, but since you want to see the little dog act, then I can do that."

Lately, he'd been attending some more sessions with Dr. Manthis, who had told him to take things easy.

"Yes!" he pumped his fist in the air, unable to contain his excitement. "Mattie's one of the judges; you can see him do that."

"Is he?" she looked surprised.

"Didn't he tell you?" Alfred beamed. "I wanna see how he does as well."

His mother returned his warm smile and followed her son from the house, down the driveway and into the car. Alfred was brimming with excitement, barely able to contain it; he desperately wanted to be there for the last day of school, just to see what would happen and what the results would be. Originally, he would've definitely said Freedom and the Coms would win, no arguments, but now that they were out of the picture, competition seemed closer and tougher. His mother started the car and pulled out of the drive, entering the road and heading towards the school.

 **Y.W.**

"Where are we going, aru?" Yao complained as Ivan hurried along the corridor to the music room at the end. "Why are we here? We should be back in the main hall."

"That can wait," Ivan said. "We need to test your piano skills, da?"

"We've been idly playing all week," Yao complained. "They're fine."

Ivan tapped at the drums and then turned to him with an expectant smile and bright look in his eyes. Yao would usually put that down as a fever, but since his friend had seemed relatively calm that morning, he put aside all qualms and sat down at the piano, pressing down on the keys and familiarising himself with a task that had become a hobby.

"Yeah, nice," Ivan was watching him. "I think that'll be fine."

"What are you talking about, aru?" Yao folded his arms. "Neither of us can sing. Alfred wasn't amazing, but he was better than us. If you expect me to suddenly start breaking out in song in a feeble attempt to rekindle the Coms, it's not happening, aru."

"Whatever," Ivan stood. "We need to go, otherwise we're going to be late."

"Late for what, aru?" Yao complained, but his friend had already ran out of the room. "Ivan, wait! I'm confused."

Yao gritted his teeth and rubbed his temples. He really didn't need this at the moment. He could refuse to move until Ivan explained to him what was going on, but his Russian friend had always been a difficult, unrelenting character, so he already knew a method like that would involve Ivan physically dragging him along, or just plain carrying him, both of which would be embarrassing.

He let out a sigh, then raced out of the room and chased after Ivan, who was already halfway down the corridor. He didn't know what was going on, but he knew he'd find out, and he was sure he was either going to hate it, or love it.

 **F.B.**

It was not every day that Francis Bonnefoy waited for other people. However, he'd made today an exception as he stood at the front gates of the school in the chilly December weather, waiting for Alfred's arrival. So far, there had been little sighting, and Alfred hadn't sent any warning of when he'd arrive. For the plan to work effectively, he needed to catch Alfred before he went wandering astray.

He remembered the rainy night in November when Ivan had called him and spilled the entire plan out over the phone. At first, he'd been a little surprised, if not completely baffled, but then he'd smiled, returned a little news of his own, and then agreed to help with Ivan's idea. He'd thought it was lovely, in all honesty, and was amazed that Ivan had been able to bring it as far as he had.

Now, he stood waiting, for the hero to arrive.

 **A.J.**

His mother drove carefully into the school car park, always checking the passenger seat to make sure he was OK. He thought there was very little point. Barely anything could be done about fractured ribs – they were difficult. You couldn't bind the patient in a cast around the torso, because that just didn't work. A few weeks resting, and then careful movement were the only thing that truly healed fractured ribs. Alfred had been doing just that exactly, and had been thoroughly enjoying his time. Luckily, he was young, so his body took less time to recover. Dr. Manthis also said he'd been looking a lot more cheery recently.

The car stopped. Turning his head, he saw his mother getting out and walking round to help him out his side. She locked the car, and the pair of them strolled casually along the path.

"Are you staying for the show?" he asked.

"I might as well," she shrugged. "I need to drive you and Matt home, remember?"

"Ah, yeah," he grinned. "Well, they have this really cute dog act that I think you'll love."

His mother smiled at him, then nodded. He hoped she liked dogs more than he was pressing upon her character. Either way, when she started squinting into the distance with a frown stretched across her face, Alfred felt a strike of faint heartedness, wondering if the gang had decided to come after him for ending their leader.

However, the chin length blonde hair could belong to none other than Francis Bonnefoy, who was _waiting_ for someone?

"Ah, bonjour, Madame Jones et Alfred," he gushed. "Just the person I wanted to see."

"What?" Alfred pointed to himself. "Me?"

Francis nodded and started guiding him along from the other side. "I have a place I need to take you. Since it'll be crowded, and we don't want you getting knocked around in your fragile condition, a better vantage point should keep you safe."

"Huh?" Alfred frowned, but let himself get taken along by Francis.

His mother followed alongside them, a baffled expression on her face mixed with a sheer look of concern.

 **Y.W.**

"I still don't know what you want from me," Yao complained as he stood backstage with Ivan. "This isn't going to work. Only the judges like instrumentals, and we're not even good enough to give a fantastic one of those."

"You're so impatient," Ivan smiled. "Just wait."

"Am I expected to be seeing something?" Yao looked around angrily. "Because I don't, aru. You better tell me what's going on, otherwise I'm walking away."

"You wouldn't do that," his friend laughed. "Or I'd have to carry you back."

He didn't want to be reminded of that potentially humiliating future, so chose to hold his silence and wait for something to happen.

"So, what are we doing here?" he said, and then turned to look as someone approached. "Whoa, what are _you_ doing here?"

Ivan's smile was warm. "He's helping us."

Yao suddenly had an idea of what was going to play out. "Oh," he gasped, hope rising in his chest once again.

 **A.J.**

Francis led him up into the gallery to look down upon the many people down below. He felt oddly like a king looking down at his loyal subjects from this point, as they bustled around looking for good seats. His mother peered down with him, spotted Matthew, and started wildly waving, much to his embarrassment.

"Where are the others?" he asked Francis. "I can't see them?"

"Hmm, I think Yao said he needed the bathroom," Francis said. "Arthur's dropping off his library books for sure. And Ivan? Je ne sais pas."

He nodded, accepting the answer, as the lights in the main hall went off, one by one. He watched in awe as Carlos stepped out onto the stage, microphone in hand and grinning excitedly.

"Hey there, and welcome!" he roared, and the people down below yelled wildly. Alfred felt like he was in a concert. "Today we have a fantastic row of acts lined up for this year's school Talent Show. But first, let us introduce our judges!"

The lights shone down on the panel, and Carlos read out each of their names, saving the head judge, Ludwig, for last. Alfred thought _he_ should've been the presenter. It looked like fun.

"Our first act is filled with mystery and suspicion," Carlos announced. "There'll be tricks, there'll be magic!"

He announced some other kid's name, but Alfred switched off and glanced between his mother and Francis. His mother had her eyes fixed on the stage, her expression one of pure delight. Francis, on the other hand, was watching him with an odd look in his eyes. Alfred offered him a wide smile, for which he received a pleasant one back.

The dog act was next, much to Alfred's enthusiasm. He babbled excitedly as Tino Vainamoinen led his little white dog on stage, only to start performing tricks with her. Alfred watched, entranced, wishing he had a dog which he could teach to do that.

Once the act was finished, he turned to both his mother and Francis and said, "That one should win. It's so cute."

A few more acts passed. Alfred had been prepared to leave once the dog act was done, but Francis had persistently insisted he remain. Bored, he watched over the edge of the gallery at the other acts.

"Next, we have Freedom and the Coms," Carlos said and Alfred's brow furrowed as Ivan and Yao walked onto the stage.

"What?" Alfred frowned. "What are _they_ doing _there_?"

Ivan sat down and slammed the drums once, as Yao nervously seated himself before the piano, then lapsed into the zone. Alfred watched as Ivan struck another beat and Yao played a chord. Where they had learnt to create tension with music, Alfred had no idea, but his jaw dropped open as he watched a third member of the party walk out onto the stage and clasp the microphone.

"This one's for Alfred," Arthur said and looked up at the gallery. "Who should be in the gallery, but it's a bit dark to see."

Alfred stared in amazement as people started turning on the flashlights of their phones and aiming them towards the gallery. He could feel the lights on his face, but he was only looking Arthur in the eye, who smiled to see him there. Then Ivan slammed down once more and Yao joined in playing.

Alfred recognised the tune as the original, but it was different, somehow more refined and more of what he'd imagined. Then Arthur started singing. He had never realised his English friend was that good a singer.

"Are you OK?" Francis asked him.

"I'm fine," he said through gritted teeth, then pushed his glasses up onto his forehead to wipe at his eyes. "I'm absolutely fine."

"You don't need to cry," Francis leant over and looked at their friends playing. "It's not _that_ beautiful."

Alfred laughed. "You could say it is to me. And I'm not crying."

* * *

 **A/N:** _Hmm, don't know about you, Al, but I almost started getting teary-eyed as I proof read this... Oh, friendship- it's such a beautiful thing. I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter, and I can promise there should be another chapter posted next week! Thank you for reading!_

 _Feliks Lukasiewicz:_ Poland  
 _Matthew Jones:_ Canada  
 _Roderich Edelstein:_ Austria  
 _Elizabeta Hédeváry:_ Hungary  
 _Carlos Machado:_ Cuba  
 _Tino Vainamoinen:_ Finland


	40. Chapter 39

**A/N:** _Heya, everyone! I was out last night and couldn't post, but here I am now and I'm with the next chapter of Gakutalia. It's been an extremely tough week in the real world, but I'm just so glad that myself and my friends have been able to overcome some people who brought some issues along with them... We had a great dinner to celebrate that last night, and I couldn't have been happier. Sometimes, I can kind of relate to the Gakutalia boys when they're having their arguments, except with people I'm not entirely close with!_

 _However, I would never let this kind of stuff get in the way of posting, because this is my passion and even exams can't pull me away from the keyboard! Therefore, here is the next chapter of Gakutalia, and I hope you all enjoy it! Also, **wow**. I swear it wasn't long ago that Gakutalia received 7'000 views, and now it's suddenly reached **8,000**! Thank you so much everyone! Here's the next chapter!_

* * *

 **A.J.**

Standing there, watching his three friends playing on an instrument, was something he'd never expected to see when he'd come here. He had expected to watch all the acts, minus Freedom and the Coms. Seeing Arthur standing in the middle, strumming lightly on the guitar despite his healing fingers, made it only greater. He was aware that both his mother and Francis were watching the entire time, but he still wanted to just stand there and take in every inch of his friends.

Once they had performed, there was a loud applause, and the crowd were able to vote for their top three acts. Alfred just stood there, whilst Francis hurried off to cast each of them a vote. He glanced at his mother and saw her already looking at him.

"What?" he frowned.

"Your friends are really good to you, you know?" she gestured down below, where Francis was speaking with the other three.

"Great, aren't they?" Alfred agreed.

"You ought to start treating them that way, then," Mrs Jones looked down at the four boys Alfred had now known for years.

"Hmm?" he glanced at her.

"Matt told me what happened at school before your accident," she admitted. "He said you were having issues with Arthur, and that after the auditions, when it all went wrong, he and Ivan took the majority of your temper."

"Ah," he suddenly felt lost for words.

"You should really tell me these things," she said.

"Yeah," he replied glumly. "Sorry."

"I'm not mad at you," she said. "A little disappointed, maybe slightly annoyed that you'd say some of the things you did, but I'm also sad you couldn't just come tell your mum what was going on, eh?"

"Yeah."

"Alfred, I'm your mother," she said with sudden seriousness, enough to get him to turn his head and look at her. "As your parent, one of my jobs is to make sure my children grow up happy and healthy, and that I die first."

"Mum?" he blinked.

"I'm here for you," she reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. "Even if it's something as small as giving you advice. Trust me, Alfred, my high school days were miserable, because I went to a girls' school and none of them were particularly enamoured with me. If there's anything I'll know about, it's how to apologise."

She reached out and wiped his face. Alfred hadn't been aware that the tears had started up again. He wanted to burst out crying and hold onto his mother just as he'd done as a little child, but there were people in the hall that could still see him, and he didn't want to embarrass himself. Instead, he hugged her. He simply hugged his mother, needing the comfort she could provide.

He'd forgotten how to value friends and family, it seemed, on his way to get to the top of the Talent Show.

"Alfred?" he turned and saw Ivan standing on the gallery, a calm smile on his face.

"I-Ivan," he dragged his hands across his face and cracked a smile. "Wh-what are you…"

"They're doing the results soon," his friend walked over. "Can you come down, or…?"

"Alfred may have to stay up here," his mother answered. "He's still really battered."

"Then I'll stay, too," Ivan leant against the bannister just as Alfred was doing and offered him another warm smile.

"Don't you need to be down there?" Alfred blinked.

"Why?" Ivan asked.

"Well, because they're doing the results?" Alfred said. "What if you win? You'd have to walk all the way down."

"And?" Ivan was smiling as if there was something Alfred was missing.

But he thought he was just about getting the basics of what Ivan was trying to tell him. The Talent Show was something that was limited to their school life. Their friendship could continue. He believed this was Ivan's way of telling him that he valued his role of a friend over his role of a bandmate.

Awkwardly, he lifted a fist, for which he bumped against Ivan's. "Sorry, dude."

"It really doesn't matter," Ivan looked out over the main hall once more. "Stress makes people total and utter arseholes."

Alfred did a double take and looked over at his friend, who was still viewing all the students down below.

"As a matter of fact, people can act like absolute pricks when things go wrong for them," Ivan continued.

"OK, Ivan," he folded his arms and turned to his friend. "I was a dickhead – I get it."

Ivan looked at him with a smile. "I'm only joking, da?"

"I know," he replied and the pair of them looked out across the main hall. "When they gonna get the show started?"

"Beats me," Ivan checked his watch. "They said-"

The lights dimmed down once more, and the panel of judges walked onto the stage, the lights trained on them.

"Oh, never mind," Ivan lowered his arm, and Alfred chuckled. "Shut up."

Alfred grinned, suppressing his sniggers, seeing the slight curve of Ivan's mouth in the dark. It was good to put the past behind. It was good to finally look ahead.

 **L.B.**

The crowd quieted down as he assessed the small sheet of paper that contained the results of the votes. The other judges stood off to the sides, so it was only him in the spotlight. He could see Fel waving excitedly from the crowd, a strange degree of pride in his expression, whilst Kiku lowered his head in embarrassment, pretending he didn't know the Italian boy.

Ludwig stood there and recalled a time when Gilbert had entered the Talent Show. He'd won, of course, but it was the fact that he took part that made Ludwig realise he was his own person compared to the older Beilschmidt. It didn't matter what Mr Saunders said, because Gilbert was a performer, whilst he, Ludwig, was an administrator. That's where they differed, and it was that realisation that made Ludwig suddenly feel the confidence to speak before the crowds of waiting faces.

"We have the results," he held up the small piece of paper. "And we're happy to say we have three very good acts that have been decided upon by both you, the audience, and us, the judges."

Fel grinned and nodded in encouragement, motivation that Ludwig had already given himself internally.

"Our top three acts are all on this piece of paper," he unfolded it and looked at it. "The top three are Jordan Martin's magic act, Tino Vainamoinen's dog act and Freedom and the Coms."

That name still grated on him, but he kept a smile on his face. The other judges joined him in the light, revealed to the crowd, their placards in hand.

"We will now be revealing our decisions to show who won the Talent Show this year," Ludwig continued. "First of all, Jordan Martin's magic act."

"That gets a seven from me," Feliks said. "So cute!"

"It was very good," Matthew nodded. "Definitely a nine."

"There was definitely talent," Roderich said. "Seven."

"I myself award the magical abilities presented with an eight," Ludwig said. "Well done."

The Year Nine boy looked amazed with his own skills and beamed amongst his friends.

"For Tino Vainamoinen's act, I have chosen a nine," Ludwig said. "It was well executed."

"The choreography was impressive," Roderich said. "Seven."

"I loved it so much!" Feliks gushed. "Definitely a nine from me!"

"Oh, well, a ten from me, eh?" Matthew smiled. "I thought it was wonderful."

Ludwig smiled at Tino who nodded back to him from the crowd. There was a serene expression on his face whilst Matthias hopped from one foot to other beside him.

"Finally, Freedom and the Coms," Ludwig said, envisioning Alfred's excitable face at the auditions.

"I give that a ten," Matthew smiled proudly. "I thought it was very good!"

"I agree," Ludwig nodded. "I award them with a ten for their musical talent."

"I absolutely loved the singing and the playing," Feliks grinned. "I would give more than a ten, but I obviously can't – so ten!"

Ludwig could already see where this was going, but when he saw the expression on Roderich's face, he could only wonder whether the final judge would do everything within his power to prevent that band winning. There was a strong look of disappointment as Roderich flicked through his placards.

 **A.J.**

Alfred knew that Roderich was finding his number moderately quickly, but the tension that had built up inside of him made it seem like time had slowed down. Ivan's expression gave nothing away, as usual, but Alfred wondered if he was experiencing the same stress he currently felt. It would be incredible to get full marks, but since it was Roderich that was unlikely.

His hopes only seemed all the more slimmer when Roderich stepped forward, a deep frown on his face and a look in his eyes. His words in the hospital remained embedded in Alfred's head, but they'd still only received a four, and that was when he was merely testing them. What happened in the next moments was something Alfred could barely explain.

Roderich held up the number, his mouth moved, and then applause spread out across the entire hall. He could hear Ivan talking excitedly beside him, but his heart was hammering in his chest as that number stood bold on its white background, and the word echoed around his head like a broken record doomed to be on repeat for the rest of its life.

"Ten."

The roaring crowd drowned out anything else that Roderich said, but Alfred could barely focus on anything. Freedom and the Coms had achieved full marks. Undoubtedly, Freedom and the Coms had won. His face suddenly felt hot, and when he put his hands to his cheeks, they came back wet.

He needed to stop crying, but his heart was pounding and he suddenly felt extremely overwhelmed.

"Come on," Ivan said, grabbing his wrist and heading towards the door.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"Down?" his friend looked confused. "To get the award?"

"But I didn't do anything?" Alfred frowned. "It was Arthur on stage with you, remember?"

"Of course I do, but don't say you did nothing, because that's not true," Ivan replied. "We wouldn't be standing here having this conversation if it wasn't for you."

"What?"

"You made Freedom and the Coms, Alfred," Ivan smiled. "Without you, it wouldn't exist."

He wasn't sure why, but those words were too much. He struggled against another breath as a fresh wave of tears arrived. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw his mother lift a hand, a proud smile on her face, and he let Ivan drag him along.

"Stop crying," Ivan laughed. "At least _try_ to look happy."

"I am, I swear," he choked. "Maybe I'm too happy?"

They wandered out to the front of the main hall.

"As manager, I'll reap the awards," Francis flew past them, hurrying up the stairs.

"You can forget _that_ , you git," Arthur growled, running after him.

"Hey, Arthur," Alfred called, and his friend turned, halfway up the stairs to look at them. "Thanks."

Arthur actually smiled. "No problem. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going frog catching."

He ran up the stairs, just as Yao joined Ivan and Alfred. As a trio, they walked up onto the main stage, before the entire school.

"We actually did it, aru," Yao muttered quietly. "I didn't think we could."

"Well done," Roderich nodded as they walked past him; his mouth even curved slightly upwards as he regarded Alfred.

Ludwig turned to them as they approached and held out the certificate towards them. Alfred hadn't even realised the prize for the Talent Show had a monetary benefit. However, when he looked, he realised it was just a plastic award certificate, and that a huge tub of chocolate was the main prize – that was just as good, in his opinion.

"What made you choose Freedom and the Coms?" Ludwig asked quietly as he offered the tub to Alfred.

Alfred thought back to all those weeks ago, then looked at the German student. "A whim of inspiration."

Ludwig shrugged and handed the tub to him. There was applause in his ears and the crowd were happy that he'd won. He was standing with his friends, which was when he realised what Ivan meant. It wouldn't nearly have been so rewarding had he been alone. They'd been through tough times, and even rough ones, but in the end, they were all fine.

He looked at Ivan, who had orchestrated this last return of Freedom and the Coms. "Thanks, dude."

Ivan beamed. "What are friends for?"

* * *

 **A/N:** _Yes, this chapter is actually very applicable right now! I really hope you enjoyed it, and I shall say- get ready for the finale next week! Until next time!_

 _Matthew Jones:_ Canada  
 _Feliks Lukasiewicz:_ Poland  
 _Roderich Edelstein:_ Austria  
 _Tino Vainamoinen:_ Finland


	41. Epilogue

**A/N:** _The end of **Gakutalia: The First Term** has officially come. Let me just say this: it's be a blast. I've had so much support on this Fic, with all the people who have been kind enough to click on this story and read through it. It's received over 100 reviews, which is just truly phenomenal. I've had so much fun writing this one, and I like to believe that people have had just as much fun reading it. This is my second FanFiction finished, and I'm just as proud of it as I was for Scaretalia, except for so many different reasons. I feel like I've developed as a writer across this Fic, and I've just been compiling all my ideas into drama and feels, and now it suddenly feels strange for it to be temporarily over! _

_But fear not! My love for Gakutalia means I can't just abandon the boys at their first term of their final year. Not at all! In fact, I very much intend to continue Gakutalia as a series of Fics, where we'll be able to see both the Allies and Axis Powers finish their final year at World Academy. It's ambitious, but I think I can do it, and since I still love Hetalia as much as I did when I first discovered it... hmm, about a year and 2 months ago, because it was about March/April 2015 where I discovered Hetalia. It was during my Easter holidays, because I remember doing barely any revision at all in my enthusiasm at discovering this new and fun anime._

 _I can't thank everyone enough for all the wonderful reviews they've left me and for choosing to read Gakutalia. There are so many brilliant Fics on this website that it just makes me so honoured that people would choose to read Gakutalia. Hetalia is in the top three fandoms that people write Fics for here, and still over 8,000 chose to read Gakutalia. It's just amazing, so I just want to say thank you again. I can't thank you enough for bearing with my awkward update schedules, for being so kind and pleasant with me, and for just staying through with Gakutalia until the end._

 _I'd also like to thank **Hidekaz Himaruya**. Seriously, he made History into such a silly, laughable good time, and even some Hetalia comic strips do have their elements of serious undertones, which I think is really nice. Without him, Gakutalia would not exist, in all reality, because I wouldn't have Hetalia to fangirl over. The characters all belong to him, in their wonderful and quirky ways, and even if Gakutalia is different to Gakuen Hetalia, World Academy also belongs to him. _

_This has been a ride guys. Thanks for reading, and enjoy the final chapter!_

* * *

 **A.J.**

It was the first week into the holidays. Alfred was relaxing on the sofa that evening, playing on his hand held console. Matthew was on the other armchair, quietly reading, when the doorbell rang. Alfred raised his head and listened to his mother stand up and answer the door.

"Oh, hello," he heard her say. "Alfred, your friends are here."

"My friends?" he didn't recall planning anything, unless they'd decided to hold an early eighteenth for Ivan?

He swiftly saved and turned the little console off before running across the house to see his friends standing at the door. There seemed to be no occasion from the looks of their faces.

"Is it OK if we borrow him for the night?" Francis asked sweetly. "We have a surprise for him."

Mrs Jones shrugged. "I don't see why not, eh?"

With a shrug, Alfred waved goodbye to his mother and wandered out into the cold winter's night. He paused in the middle of his friends and glanced from each of their smiling faces. It was a little eerie.

"So, what are we doing?" he asked. "I'm still a bit fragile, so if it could induce further injury, please warn me."

"It's nothing like that, aru," Yao casually blindfolded him from behind.

"Wait, what?" Alfred frowned. "It's not my birthday? What's going on?"

"It's a surprise," Ivan said from beside him, and brushed his hair back.

"Are we going to a strip club?" Alfred asked as Ivan started putting headphones in his ears.

"Did you want to go to strip club?" Arthur asked uncertainly, as Ivan waited.

"Maybe?" he frowned.

"Then, no, we're not going to a strip club," Arthur answered.

"Is this revenge for messing up your birthday, Yao?" he asked, worried. "Are you going to take me to the library or something and make me study?"

"You'll just have to wait and see," Yao answered as Ivan put the headphones in at last.

A song started playing, a strange tune that Alfred wasn't sure about, although he kind of liked it, and everything else was drowned out, other than the cold air biting at his skin as well as Ivan and Yao guiding him along on either side.

He was half pulled half pushed into a car, strapped in, and grimaced in anticipation as it rumbled into life and set off. He waited in horrified ignorance, desperate to reach the destination and discover what was lying in wait for him. He couldn't hear anything over the music, and finally knew how Yao had felt to be mysteriously taken somewhere unknown – there was a certain vulnerability in being blind and deaf, and having to rely on the other four was not something he would want in his life at any point.

After a while, he was unbelted and helped from the car, still unsure as to where his friends were taking him. He desperately wanted to take off the blindfold, but when he reached for it, someone gently smacked his hand away, and he resided to waiting impatiently for the moment to come.

They all came to a stop, and there was a pause. Slowly and subtly, he reached for the blindfold with a sly smile, believing he was unsupervised, but someone grabbed his arm and locked it behind his back.

"What the…?" he grinned, but heard no response because of the music.

There was a bit more waiting, and then the music suddenly stopped, only to be replaced by some hard bass that was slightly muffled, and the general chatter and conversation of people. Alfred's brows furrowed; perhaps they'd been generous and decided to treat him to some clubbing or a party or something…?

"Blindfold off," Ivan said, whipping it away from his face, as Yao released his arm.

Alfred blinked and squinted against the flashing lights, to see Feliciano Vargas standing at the door wearing a smile.

"Hey there!" he beamed. "Welcome!"

For a moment, Alfred was lost for words. How had his friends managed to get invites to Feliciano Vargas' party, especially after what had happened in October during Hallowe'en? Someone must've cast some magic spell or something, because he honestly couldn't see a way they'd managed this. Vargas' older brother had taken a horrifying hatred towards them…

"Wait, what?" Alfred frowned.

"Don't ask questions," Arthur instructed. "Just enjoy the party whilst it lasts. He's not drinking tonight, by the way – safety reasons."

"I completely understand," Feliciano held a cup towards him. "Lucky I got soft drinks just in case we had a few teetotal guests."

He took the cup and sipped the soda down. It would've been nice to go all out and have a few drinks, but he understood that, if something happened, it would be a return trip to the hospital as well as a severe scolding for him and his friends by his mother and their parents.

Alfred grinned. "It's party time!"

 **K.H.**

There were a lot of faces he recognised from Lovino's year, but none of which he knew enough to talk to. He could see Ludwig with Antonio and Lovino, but insecurities made him refrain from approaching them, and Fel had disappeared to somewhere else.

He saw Yao enter the room with Arthur and once again questioned why Fel had caved and allowed them to come along. He tried not to notice them, but accidently met Yao's gaze just as he was turning away.

Desperately, he hoped Yao wouldn't approach him, but then remembered he was loitering around the buffet and snack tables. Experience told him that, true to his nature, Yao would pursue food. Frowning, he searched for an escape route, only to see the masses of people dancing and hanging around.

"Is the food good, aru?"

Kiku swallowed and turned slowly to see the other boy staring at him expectantly. He really should say something – he should tell him it's alright, and then walk off; something vague.

" _Aru_?" Yao repeated, peering at the vast selection.

"It's very good," he replied, and cursed when Yao excitedly began browsing, eager to try each piece of delectable food.

He watched him, thinking back to the time when-

"Weird how it's almost the next year," Yao said blandly, interrupting his line of thought.

"Ah, yes," Kiku replied, caught off guard.

"I probably won't see you until next year," Yao was being extremely pleasant. "So, I guess, between us, this can be a New Year's party, aru."

 _You're at a party – be pleasant as well,_ Kiku scolded himself and managed a smile. "Yes."

It had been a while since the two of them had spoken properly. Yao raised his paper plate, already filled with food, and wandered off in search of drinks.

 _He's not so bad…_ Kiku looked into his drink and smiled.

 **F.B.**

"'But, gringo,' I said, _still_ in Spanish. 'I don't speak English – I can only tell you where to go in _Spanish_ ," Antonio was saying. "So, he then sighs, shakes his head, and says, 'Fine, mate, whatever – can you tell me where the nearest, err…' and he consults his little booklet for this – 'centro de información'. So I sigh, shake my head and laugh, then say, 'Oh, just down the road, and turn left' – all in English, and he just stops, stares at me; but I'm already walking off."

Lovino sniggered. "I love doing that to obvious English or American tourists."

The elder Vargas had been drinking enough to forget his hatred towards Francis, it seemed. Francis wasn't particularly eager to remind him of this deep rooted dislike, either.

"It's too good," Francis agreed.

He'd been chilling with the older guys and Ludwig and was feeling the benefits of it.

"But, Ludwig, where's Gilbert?" Antonio asked after they'd chuckled about meddling with tourists.

"Ah, he couldn't make it," Ludwig replied.

"University is a bitch," Lovino swigged from his bottle, then gestured to Francis. "Don't go."

"No, no, no – _do_ go," Antonio countered. "Just party loads. The mistake I made the first year was studying too much. You need a balance, gringo."

"What? You? Studying? When did the apocalypse start happening; I didn't notice it come," Lovino gawked.

"Ha, ha, very funny," Antonio rolled his eyes. "How many beers have you had again?"

"I had three beforehand," Lovino snickered. "This is my fifth."

Antonio cast Francis and Ludwig a knowing look. Francis enjoyed the company of those two, because their humour had just cracked him up from the start. He usually didn't get on that well with Ludwig, but since it was a party and they were both there to have fun, no disagreements had come to light.

"Have I told any of you the story of how a friend of mine woke up in a bathtub with churros up to his ankles?" Antonio asked.

 **Y.W.**

Once he'd gathered all the food the party could offer him, he joined Arthur at the drinks table and poured himself a glass of Pimm's.

"You like that?" Arthur asked, beer in hand.

"Yeah, actually," Yao smiled. "This stuff is nice, aru."

"Saw you talking to Kiku," Arthur commented. "How is he?"

Yao glanced at his English friend to see genuine curiosity in his green eyes before smiling to himself. "He seems fine. We were just talking about food."

"OK," Arthur said.

"He's not that bad, aru," Yao continued, even though Arthur hadn't pressed for him to continue. "Maybe I'll make a greater effort to speak with him more before we leave…"

"Might as well," Arthur replied.

"I need a table to eat all this," Yao frowned. "I'll see ya?"

"Sure, sure."

 **A.K.**

Arthur watched Yao wander off, juggling his full plate and drink, and wondered whether there were any relations he needed to fix before leaving. For the people he had spoken to, Arthur had kept his friends rather close, and had done well not to have any major arguments with them.

He had spoken to Leon several times during Years Ten and Eleven and had gotten on well with him. Perhaps he ought to rekindle that friendship?

For the time being, however, Arthur was content with the close knit group of friends he currently had.

 **L.B.**

He would never understand why Fel changed his mind and invited the others to the party, but there were some things his Italian friend did that were unexplainable.

When he helped himself to his second beer, he wandered outside and called Gilbert, just to check up on his brother.

"Hey," Gilbert sounded tired. "What's up?"

"Just calling to make sure you're fine," Ludwig stated.

"I'm getting things sorted," Gilbert said. "Eh, there's a lot on my plate I need to deal with before shit goes down…"

"I get you," Ludwig said. "You sure you're fine? I can always visit you now that school's ended?"

"Seriously, don't worry," Gilbert said. "I'll visit when I can. Gotta go – so much to do."

"Right," Ludwig sighed. "Bye."

Gilbert hung up. Ludwig looked at his phone, then shook his head despairingly. There were times when Gilbert infuriated him, and then there were times like this when Ludwig truly pitied his brother.

 **I.B.**

Ivan was pouring himself a large glass of vodka when Alfred appeared at the drinks table.

"You're not meant to be drinking," Ivan said, as he watched his friend crack open a beer bottle.

Alfred turned to him with a smile. "It's just one."

"Put it down," Ivan instructed.

"But, _Mum_ , I'm nearly an adult," Alfred took a swig. "I can't leave it now. That would be impolite."

Ivan rolled his eyes. "Fine; I won't tell."

"I can always count on you," Alfred chuckled. "By the way, thanks for arranging this. It was you, right?"

"It was actually Francis who did this bit," Ivan said. "I'm not sure how, but he managed it."

"Cheers to Francis," Alfred waved his bottle in the air.

"Is this your first beer?" Ivan asked, suddenly growing suspicious from Alfred's light mood.

"What? Yes, actually," Alfred said.

"Is this your first _drink_?"

To that, Alfred looked a little sheepish. "Maybe not."

"You know you're n-"

"Selfie time!" Alfred lifted his phone and took a shot of them both standing there.

Ivan knew he'd probably looked surprised in the photo, but before he knew it, Alfred had already wandered off. He shook his head in disbelief and allowed fate to take its course, should Alfred encounter either Arthur or Francis in that state. Minding his own business, he went to look for his sister.

* * *

 **A.J.**

 _There's something comforting with having completed the first term. As the Hero, I already feel like I've made an accomplishment that can't be replicated. It's an achievement to have actually finished my English coursework and to have lived through it – alongside some minor injuries._

Alfred laughed with some strangers late into the party, his drink in hand, relaxing and enjoying the night.

 _If there was something this first term of Year Thirteen taught me, then it was definitely who my friends are. Connections have built up rapidly in these past three and half months, and things have happened that truly are unforgettable._

Alfred paused and started looking around the room for his friends, making sure to avoid Arthur and Francis. Their wrath was something he didn't want to witness.

 _As the Hero, though, I learnt something else. Life is bound to have ups and downs, and I definitely felt both miserable and elated during this term. It's difficult to handle some things, but that's why you have friends and family – they pick you up. And honestly? One of the most important things is this…_

When everything seemed clear, Alfred contemplated getting another drink.

 _There's nothing wrong with falling. That's fine._

Just then, he looked across the room to see Ivan standing with his older sister, Katyusha. His friend turned, met his gaze, and lifted his glass in acknowledgement. Alfred felt a smile form on his face, and raised his own glass in reply.

 _You just need to keep in mind that you can always get back up._

~END OF FIRST TERM~

* * *

 **Mr Saunders**

The students had gone on holiday at this stage. He no longer had to worry about making sure they were registered in the morning and afternoon, and he would finally have a break from marking their work. He pitied the English department, who had to worry for hours on end on whether their students had done sufficient work or not. Personally, Mr Saunders couldn't care less. He was set, on _his_ holiday, with the task of marking the Year Thirteens' work. Naturally, this was an important year for them, but as Mr Saunders disliked virtually every student he taught in the sense that he was indifferent to their lives beyond school, he couldn't find it within his cold heart to care.

He stacked the papers and looked at the top. Ludwig Beilschmidt. A top star student that, quite frankly, Mr Saunders thought was 'too perfect'. He was the type of nerd who have no life beyond past papers. Since marking such drivel usually made Mr Saunders reconsider his life decisions, he usually procrastinated them for last. He shuffled that paper to the back.

The next name read Francis Bonnefoy. This student just _didn't_ have a knack for science. His words were too floaty and poetic. Reading his papers made Mr Saunders feel queasy from all the cheesy one-liners he came up with, thinking they were intelligent. He'd just eaten, so he wasn't in the mood for this one. He shuffled it to the back.

He sighed when he saw the next paper. **Poisonlilie** was just one of those students that Mr Saunders had to keep an eye on. Put that one in a chemistry class alone, and you were likely to see potassium and water mix. That one gave him a faint heart. He hastily shoved the paper to the bottom of the pile.

Ivan Braginsky sat at the top now. In all honesty, Mr Saunders found the flaw in this one's handwriting. He didn't like deciphering unclear words to start with, but Braginsky wrote in codes. Perhaps this was secretly in Russian? Either way, he wasn't in the mood to exert extra energy figuring out what had been said, and shoved that paper to the back, too.

He found Kiku Honda's paper next. Mr Saunders, without reading the paper, scribble an A+. An A* was probably what the student wanted, but it was in his policy to not reward the highest marks if he could. He liked to frustrate students like that. As for Honda... If Beilschmidt's friends were past papers, then Honda took them as his lovers. That's what Mr Saunders called 'no life'. He put the paper aside, and deemed it marked.

The next order confused him. Matthew Jones. But where was Alfred? He shuffled hastily through the papers, before realising that one student had just not bothered to hand in his homework. At least some people didn't pretend to try. He'd just give Matthew an A, accidentally give it to Alfred, and then shame him in front of the entire class. Yeah, that sounded a good idea. Mr Saunders set Matthew's paper aside.

Mr Saunders was glad to see **totallyignorable** had handed in their paper this time. That one needed to sit at the front of the class, otherwise notes were not taken. Mr Saunders knew that for a fact. Also, he had realised to never sit this one next to Lukasiewicz- conversation came easy when like minds decided not to do the work.

Arthur Kirkland was next to appear. This one was an English student through and through. The amount of waffle he had to sift through sometimes was eye-watering and mind-numbing. He couldn't bear the thought of tackling such a paper at this hour. Shaking his head, he almost threw that one to the back of the pile.

Once more, he was perplexed by the order of the last few names, but then realised his errors. He was always getting 'W' and 'V' mixed up in the alphabet, but he couldn't care enough to change his errors. Yao Wang was a perfectly agreeable student, but Mr Saunders hated his personality. That one had a mouth on him, and enough sass to win a war. It also showed in his words; the pride and egoist nature seemed to seep from the user's hand to their pen. Mr Saunders wasn't in the mood to be humbled, so shoved that paper to the bottom.

He almost despaired when he came to the next paper. **WhiteWolf100101**. That one was a troublemaker to the core, yet the innocent face meant nobody else in the Staff Room believed him. Judging from the behaviours of his colleagues, it was just _him_ that this one acted badly around. No. He didn't have the strength to mark that paper. Faintly, he pushed the paper to the bottom of the pile.

Finally, he reached the paper of Feliciano Vargas. This was the easiest paper to mark, because this student really didn't need to come into school- by that, Mr Saunders believed no level of higher education could save this kid. He wrote a 'U' straight away and left it at that. He wouldn't even _need_ to read that one.

A piece of paper slipped out of his pile and landed on his desk. Irritably, he picked it up, before he recognised it was a letter one of his Year Seven students had given him. **"Thank you!"** it read, in the soppiest way possible. Year Sevens were extremely cheesy. He threw it in the bin.

As for the rest of the papers... they would have to wait until tomorrow. He had marked three, and that was an achievement by his standards. For now, though, he was going to put his feet, to relax, and to enjoy the Christmas break.

* * *

 _Thank you so much for reading Gakutalia! It's been a trip, and I hope to continue this series! I can't say it'll appear right away, as I have been working on another Fic, but it will happen. Until then, thank you so much for the continued support! It really means a lot!_

 _Good luck with exams for all those who have them! Mine start on Monday!_

 _Matthew Jones:_ Canada  
 _Antonio Carriedo:_ Spain  
 _Lovino Vargas:_ Romano  
 _Leon Chun:_ Hong Kong  
 _Gilbert Beilschmidt:_ Prussia  
 _Katyusha Braginsky:_ Ukraine


End file.
